


Leannán

by charlesdk



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Canon Disabled Character, Fluff, Gay Bucky Barnes, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor T'Challa/Sam Wilson, POV Steve Rogers, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sexual Content, Single Parents, Slow Build, So much fluff it's disgusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:31:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/pseuds/charlesdk
Summary: Leannán/ˈʎɛn̪ˠan/ ;noun |lover, sweetheart. From Old Irishlendán,lennán(“(male) lover, sweetheart, beloved”).“Steve Rogers,” he says and holds out his free hand to Bucky, putting on a kind smile while simultaneously ignoring Cassidy climbing onto him.“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky says and shakes his hand. But he isn’t looking at him. No, he’s looking at where Cassidy is planting one of her feet flat against Steve’s hip and hoisting herself off the ground. There’s a smile on his lips and a soft expression on his face, and Steve tries really hard to ignore the urge to ask for his number.Oh boy. Not good.OR – In which single father Steve Rogers meets and befriends kindhearted asshole Bucky Barnes and falls in love despite his best efforts not to. It’s a slow and challenging journey thanks to his past but eventually they get their happy ending. Together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I would be writing another kid fic but here I am anyway. I blame Gifted for making me wanna do it in the first place and [Elisa](http://atticuos.tumblr.com/) for encouraging me and yelling with me while I was planning it.

Steve has always been convinced that the universe is constantly plotting against him.

Whenever he has deadlines or time sensitive plans, there's a ninety-eight percent chance that something is going to happen that will make him late or make him miss it all together. Like the train being six minutes late when he has a once in a lifetime opportunity kind of interview or one of his former bosses letting him go right when he desperately needed money for his mom's treatment or his brain deciding to stop working and letting him fall asleep in the middle of doing countless assignments last minute, the list is endless.

He has always seemed to have the absolute worst luck and he constantly raises both middle fingers at the universe whenever something bad or straight up shitty happens. The universe is out to get him, he's positive of that.

Sure, the universe has thrown him a bone every now and then, like when he finally hit a growth spurt and grew a foot in height and put on muscles and his immune system stopped being crap, or when he held his daughter in his arms for the first time. But the universe is mostly cruel.

Disaster always has the worst timing in Steve's experience.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he mutters under his breath as he turns the keys in the ignition for the fourth time.

For the past three, the engine of the car rumbled for a couple of long, miserable seconds before dying out. This fourth time is no different and Steve lets out a heavy sigh and slumps forward when the car refuses to cooperate, letting his head fall and thunk against the steering wheel.

“Fuck,” he lets out in a sigh and closes his eyes.

“Language,” a voice behind him says immediately, sounding way too delighted while he's over here having a minor break down.

Steve lifts his head up from the wheel and twists around in his seat to look at the one behind him. Cassidy, his seven year old daughter, is grinning widely and toothily at him from where she's sitting, dressed for school and strapped to her seat. She's practically beaming at him for having called him out on his cursing.

Again.

“Why do you always use my own words against me?” he asks, tilting his head and raising a brow. He tries to put on an annoyed expression but the delighted smile on his daughter's face makes it hard to fight the smile that pulls on his own.

“Because uncle Sam says I have to,” Cassidy answers and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you uncle Sam is a butt,” he says and Cassidy laughs. At the sound of it, Steve can no longer hold back a smile and lets it grow.

However, the smile slips off of his lips soon enough and, with a defeated sigh, he turns back around and leans heavily against his seat as he digs into his pocket for his phone. “Sorry, Cassie,” he says and unlocks the phone to go into his contacts. “Looks like you're not gonna make it to school today. Car ain't working.”

“Can I still see Ayanna today?” Cassidy asks after a pouting pause.

“Sure,” Steve says and presses call on Natasha's number, lifting the phone to his ear. “We can go over to her house later if her dads are okay with it.”

Cassidy hums thoughtfully for a second, fiddling with her seat belt, before she shrugs and says, “Okay. Can I hang out with you today then?”

Steve looks over his shoulder and smiles at her. “I would love that,” he tells her and she smiles brightly back at him.

The phone he has pressed to his ear rings for a good ten or so seconds before the call gets picked up, Natasha greeting him with an annoyed sigh and a, “What did I tell you about calling me before lunch time when I've just had the night shift?”

“Hey,” Steve drawls, dodging the question by pretending he didn't hear it. “Remember when you said you knew a good mechanic? Yeah, I'm gonna need one.”

♜

It takes a good twenty minutes for the tow truck to arrive. The man who picked up the phone when Steve called the number Natasha gave him (“Commando Auto Repair, this is Gabriel speaking. What can I do for you this _meh_ morning?”) told him it would take about fifteen but Steve isn't complaining about the extra five minutes of waiting.

Not when it means five more minutes with his daughter that he usually wouldn't get because she's usually at school at this time of day. And especially not when it means Cassidy climbing on him like he's the swing set in Sam's backyard, not a second of silence between them while she talks and asks question after question that Steve does his best to give her answers to.

“Seven's a real curious age, watch out,” Sam warned him a few years ago but Steve didn't think it would be this bad.

Or, well, bad isn't really the right word. It's not terrible or as tiring as Sam made it sound (most of the time, at least) but Steve didn't think it would be this level of curious. Cassidy asks about everything between heaven and earth and beyond, and Steve almost can't keep up at times.

Regardless of whether or not he's able to answer her never ending and sometimes ridiculous questions or keep up though, it's a joy to see her be so enthusiastic about learning. It never fails to warm his heart with happiness and pride.

Steve doesn't even see when the tow truck pulls up toward them. It's Cassidy who points it out, hanging from his arm with her feet planted on his hip and ribs and her head upside down. She stops abruptly in her talk of dinosaurs to reach a pointing hand forward and call out excitedly, “Look at that one, dad! It's got a hook!”

The truck comes to a stop and parks in front of them and Steve raises a hand in greeting while the man behind the wheel steps out of it with an easy smile on his lips.

“Jim Morita,” he introduces himself as and holds out a hand that Steve takes and gives a firm shake.

“Steve Roger. This is my daughter, Cassidy.”

“Morning,” Jim says and smiles down at Cassidy. She's no longer climbing on Steve but is instead stood by his side, her eyes wide with curiosity as she looks at Jim.

“Hi,” she says. “Why does you car have a hook?”

Steve smiles and dips his chin a little while Jim chuckles.

“Well,” he says. “It's so I can bring cars that don't work anymore with me to get them fixed. Smart, right?”

“Yeah!” Cassidy says, a wide smile on her face.

Jim smiles at her, soft and kind, then he looks at Steve. “You the one who called about car trouble?” he asks.

Steve nods and lets out a sigh before he says, “Yeah. I tried turning it on several times and it just,” he makes a gesture with his hand, “wouldn't start.”

Jim hums thoughtfully for a second then nods. “Alright, well, let's get it to the shop,” he says and heads toward the back of the truck, “and see if we can't get it fixed right up for you.”

While Jim hooks Steve's car to his truck, Cassidy watches with wide eyes and her mouth open in a small gape. Steve smiles and says, “Watch out, a bug might fly right in here,” while poking at her gape. She doesn't seem bothered by it one bit and he can only roll his eyes and let her watch in peace.

Once the car is hooked and secured onto the back of the truck, Jim hops back into the truck and Steve and Cassidy follow suit, Cassidy making herself comfortable in her dad's lap and Steve wrapping an arm securely around her.

They have been driving for only about a minute before Cassidy breaks the silence and starts talking about everything and anything, asking a question here and there. She doesn't stop for just about the whole trip there.

Steve tries to make her stop exactly once, thinking it might annoy Jim, but then Jim waves a dismissive hand at him and talks back at her, so Steve just leans back and listens to them get along swimmingly.

Honestly, Steve has yet to meet someone who doesn't get along with Cassidy. She's out going and very vocal. She's not shy or held back like Steve was when he was her age, which he's very thankful for. He's glad that she hasn't gotten his shyness, glad that she has taken after her mother in that part of her personality.

In the car, whenever Cassidy asks a question and pauses to wait for an answer instead of just rambling on like always, either Jim or Steve answer. Jim looks amused whenever Cassidy asks a question that neither he nor Steve can answer. Steve's used to it. Cassidy likes to ask a lot of questions that he has no way of answering but she never seems to care and always just dives right into something else.

Today is no different and Steve chuckles along with Jim when Cassidy just shrugs and moves on.

♜

The Commandos Auto Repair is already noisy but not looking terribly busy when they get there. The usually busy morning traffic has died down a little, people having already made it to work or school or wherever at this point, so the drive over here only takes them about fifteen minutes.

There aren't a lot of people in there; just a handful of guys leaning against the counter in the front when Steve and Cassidy walk inside. Jim dropped them off at the ground while he drives the truck and the car through the back. The noise isn't coming from the handful of guys though. No, it's coming from further in the shop.

Steve glances toward the noise quickly. A car is elevated off the ground and a man is stood underneath it, muscular and dirty with oily arms raised as he fiddles with something under the car. He only bothers staring for half a second before he brings his attention back ahead of him, his hand tightening its hold around Cassidy's just a little.

“You must be the guy with car trouble,” one of the men says. There's a bushy mustache above his lips and a well worn hat sitting crookedly on top of his head. He steps forward and holds out a hand, a smile on his nearly hidden lips. “Tim Dugan, I run this place.”

“And by run, he means doing all the paper work while the rest of us have fun,” another man says, the rest of the group chuckling at his words. His voice sounds familiar and Steve places it quickly; Gabriel, the guy who greeted him when he called.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve says and shakes Tim's hand. “Good to meet you.”

“Right back at you,” Tim says and gives his hand a strong squeeze before they both let go.

“And who's this young lady?” Gabriel asks and smiles, crouching down to be on eye level with Cassidy.

“I'm Cassidy,” Cassidy says and smiles back. “I'm not going to school and seeing my best friend today 'cause my daddy's car is broken.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Gabriel says and he sounds like he genuinely means it. “But don't worry. We'll get your daddy's car fixed up asap.”

“I got your number from Natasha Romanoff,” Steve says, letting Cassidy talk to Gabriel but not letting go of her hand. She isn't letting go either. He looks from Tim to the others and back. “I'm supposed to ask for a Bucky?”

Tim nods once, holds up a finger, then turns and cups his hands around his mouth. “Yo, Barnes!” he calls out loudly into the shop.

A second passes before the noise in the place stops and Steve turns to follow Tim's eyes. The man standing underneath the elevated car lowers his arms and turns his head toward them. Steve can't see him, not from the distance. He can only see dark brown hair, a light scruff, and a really dirty tank top clinging to a muscular body.

Generic, nothing special.

“Get over here!” Tim calls and makes a beckoning motion with his hand. “You got customers!”

Barnes, who Steve assumes is the Bucky Natasha mentioned to him, briefly wipes his right hand on a dirty rag that hangs from his back pocket and then makes his way over. His walk is more of a strut and the closer he gets to them, the faster Steve swallows his previous words about this guy.

Because there is fucking nothing generic about him, oh no. Nothing special? Yeah right, like this guy doesn't look like he walked right off the catwalk.

His dark brown hair is pulled back into a messy looking ponytail resting on the nape of his neck. Several hairs have escaped the hair tie attempting to hold it together and several of those hairs are sticking to his sweaty forehead. A light stubble frames a pair of pretty pink lips, the corners tugged down ever so slightly, and runs along a square jaw. His eyes are a piercing gray color, his brows hanging low above them.

There's grease and oil scattered messily across his face in various places and Steve is five seconds away from popping a very embarrassing and highly inappropriate boner just from the way Bucky is looking at him; a small scowl on his face and eyes calculating as they run over him, not so subtly checking him out.

Steve is so enchanted by this gorgeous face that he doesn't even let himself look further down, doesn't even let himself take in the rest of him.

Not until Cassidy suddenly gasps next to him, tugs at his hand, and says, “Dad, dad! Look! It's like Luke's hand!”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Steve looks down at his daughter. She's pointing to the right and his eyes immediately follow her finger in curiosity.

Bucky's left hand, forearm, and elbow are a prosthetic. It looks robotic and metallic, sleek and highly advanced. The fingers twitch just slightly and Steve has to clench his jaw to keep himself from gaping.

It's beautiful, a work of art. Fitting, Steve thinks, for a man looking like that.

But he quickly snaps out of it and looks down at Cassidy, reaching out to push her pointing finger down. “Cassie,” he says seriously and sternly. “You don't point at people's prosthetic. It's not nice.”

Cassidy's bottom lip falls out in a small pout and she ducks her head in embarrassment.

“It's fine,” a deep and soothing voice says and Steve looks up to see Bucky smiling at them, specifically at Cassidy. The scowl from earlier has vanished and is replaced by a soft look in his eyes and a kind smile on his lips.

Steve is about ready to melt.

“And actually,” Bucky continues and lifts his left hand, wiggling the fingers. “I like to think it's more like Furiosa's hand.”

Cassidy lifts her head and looks up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Who is that?” she asks.

“Only the coolest character ever.”

Cassidy turns and looks up at Steve, her eyes pleading. “Daa-ad.”

Steve sighs and says, “I'll show you when you're older.”

“You always say that,” Cassidy grumbles and harrumphs as she pouts.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, not even trying to bite back the little smile that pulls at the corners of his lips. He holds his arm out a little when Cassidy moves a bit away from him, her grip around his hand tightening ever so slightly.

He knows what's coming so he lets himself go tense.

“Steve Rogers,” he says and holds out his free hand to Bucky, putting on a kind smile while simultaneously ignoring Cassidy climbing onto him.

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky says and shakes his hand. But he isn't looking at him. No, he's looking at where Cassidy is planting one of her feet flat against Steve's hip and hoisting herself off the ground. There's a smile on his lips and a soft expression on his face, and Steve tries really hard to ignore the urge to ask for his number.

Oh boy. Not good.

Bucky visibly shakes himself out of it and lets go of Steve's hand (it's only then that Steve realizes they've been shaking hands for too long) to point over to where Jim is pulling the car into the garage. “This one's yours?”

Steve nods and says, “Yeah.” He wraps his arm around Cassidy when she finally manages to crawl all the way up, attaching herself to his side like a koala.

“Alright,” Bucky says, a smile on his lips. “Let's go see what's wrong with this baby.”

♜

Steve is in hell. Or maybe this is heaven, he's not entirely sure yet. It feels like hell because he is suffering but heaving because, well, whose heaven wouldn't this be?

“What's that one?”

“This one? That's the transmission.”

“What does that do?”

“It helps you control the speed when you're driving.”

Steve is suffering. Not because Cassidy has made herself at home on his shoulders, her stomach pressed against the back of his head as she leans forward and her arm wrapped around his neck while he keeps his hands wrapped around her ankles to keep her from falling. No, not because of that.

He's suffering because while Cassidy is curiously asking into countless things, Bucky is patiently answering them. And every time, the hard lines on his face grows the tiniest bit softer even though Cassidy is keeping him from doing his job properly.

Steve

is

suffering.

Oh, he is going to kill Natasha. Punch that smug fucking grin she undoubtedly has right off her fucking face. She always does this; puts an attractive person that is just his type right in front of him, tempting him to give in and dip his toes into the dating pool again.

But so far, she has never succeeded and even though Bucky is one hell of an attractive man and even though the soft look he has on his face as he listens to Cassidy makes Steve's knees feel a bit like jelly, it's not going to happen this time either.

Dating? That's just not for him. He has Cassidy and his friends and that's enough. So what if he feels a little lonely whenever he hangs out with Sam and T'Challa and sees how happy they are together with their kids? So what if he feels jealous whenever he sees Natasha look at Clint like he's the best thing that's ever happened to her, despite all the trouble that comes with dating him?

So what? Steve's fine.

“So,” Bucky says after a while, bringing Steve out of his slight daze. “I think I've found your problem.”

Steve looks at him expectantly for a moment but when Bucky stays silent and continues to fiddle with the engine, fingers getting more and more oily, Steve speaks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your car's old so the parts are getting pretty old too. Luckily for you, we've got the parts you need for a fix in stock here. It'll take a few hours to replace but it should be pretty easy and simple.”

Steve lets out a sigh of relief and smiles. “That's great. I was worried I'd have to go look for a new car.”

“Well, now you only gotta worry about expensive car parts,” Bucky says and offers him a crooked smile.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, making Cassidy tighten her grip around his neck a little. He doesn't mind, smiling when he hears her chuckling. “I think I'll live,” he says.

Bucky looks at him for a long, almost lingering moment, his crooked smile slowly smoothing out. “Good,” he says and then stands up straight, grabbing the dirty rag with his left hand and wiping his right in it. “Like I said, it's gonna take a couple of hours to fix. You're welcome to stick around but it might be a bit boring for this one,” he points at where Cassidy is already getting bored, picking at Steve's beard and kicking her feet, “so take a walk. There's a cafe a few blocks from here that serves great coffee and makes even better ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” Cassidy asks, immediately perking up.

Steve sighs and gives Bucky a look. “Thanks for that,” he says dryly, narrowing his eyes when Bucky just grins at him. “Now she won't stop asking for it until she gets it.”

“Daaad!” Cassidy leans down over his head, a wide smile on her lips and her eyes wide and pleading. “Can we get ice cream, please?”

Steve rolls his eyes at her despite the fond smile that's threatening to form. “Fine,” he sighs and stops fighting the smile when Cassidy sits back up and throws her arms up in celebration.

Bucky is watching them, trying to hide the soft expression on his face by putting on a scowl. It's not working and Steve sees right through him; sees the twinkle in his eyes when Cassidy starts bouncing on top of Steve's shoulders, sees the chuckle and the smile he's trying to hold back.

Steve doesn't blame him. Cassidy can turn even the grumpiest assholes into puddles.

“Well,” Steve says and offers Bucky a smile, patting Cassidy's shin as she continues to bounce. “I'll see you in a few hours then.”

“Enjoy the ice cream!” Bucky calls after them as Steve walks away, Cassidy now back on the ground and her hand in his.

“Will do!” Steve calls back and raises a hand at the other guys when they pass them.

♜

Bucky wasn't lying when he said the ice cream at the cafe is good. Cassidy practically devours her whole bowl of it in only a few minutes. Or she would have had Steve not told her to slow down a little unless she wanted to get brain freeze.

“Would that make me a superhero?” she asks, already scooping up another mouthful of ice cream onto her spoon even though she has barely swallowed the previous one.

“Sure,” Steve says and takes a quick sip of his coffee. It's lukewarm by now because he's been a little distracted. But he likes it that way anyway so he doesn't mind. “But it would hurt your brain. A lot.”

“But I'd be a superhero,” Cassidy says and gives Steve a look like he's an idiot. “Superheroes are cool, dad.”

“But would it be worth the pain?”

Cassidy pauses for a moment, considering it, then she nods. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Steve smiles and gestures to her ice cream. “Then eat away. But don't blame me when you get brain freeze. I'll just be here, saying I told you so.”

Cassidy sticks her tongue out at him and shoves a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Steve watches her, amused, as she shoves in another only a few seconds after and then another. When she suddenly pauses and her face starts to crumble into a hurt expression, Steve raises his brows and gives her a look.

“I told you so,” he says and she pouts at him as she presses a hand to her forehead with a whine.

“Being a superhero sucks.”

Chuckling under his breath, Steve leans over and presses a kiss to her forehead. She whines and leans into him, so he brings a hand up to gently caress the back of her head, petting until she has recovered.

When Cassidy finishes her ice cream (slowly now that she has learned her lesson of brain freeze, although only temporarily, Steve suspects), Steve pulls out his sketchbook and flips it to a blank page before sliding it over toward her. She's already sticking her hands into his opened bag and pulling out the pencil case.

She starts to draw, hand fisted around a pencil that would have made Steve cringe eight years ago but he no longer cares, and all her attention goes right to the lines she puts on the blank paper. Steve watches for only a minute before he stands up and goes to get himself a refill of his (really good, Bucky wasn't lying about that either) coffee and a glass of juice for his daughter.

While Cassidy is preoccupied with drawing, Steve takes the opportunity to reach into his pocket and check his phone. Unsurprisingly, there are texts from both Natasha and Sam. He ignores the texts from Natasha with a roll of his eyes. Instead, he opens the one from Sam.

> **[** 08:11 AM **] Sam** : You guys ok? Didn't see you when I dropped off Ayanna.

Steve shoots a glace at Cassidy and says, “Cassie, wipe your face,” before he responds to Sam.

< **[** 10:28 AM **] Steve** : Car wouldn't start, had to take it to a mechanic. We hate Nat from now on btw.

He places his phone on the table and leans over to see what Cassidy is drawing. It's only a few minutes later that his phone vibrates with a new text and he leans back to open and respond to it.

> **[** 10:31 AM **] Sam** : Done. You gonna tell me why?

< **[** 10:31 AM **] Steve** : Fuck no.

♜

Steve is doing everything in his power to ignore whatever is happening to his right. He's using every bit of his self control to keep his attention firmly on the people in front of him, to keep his focus solely on the kind and friendly mechanics keeping him and his daughter company while his car is getting done. He does everything he can to keep himself from looking anywhere to his right.

Because if he looks to his right, he's going to see Bucky; sweaty and dirty and oily with his sleeveless shirt showing off impressive biceps and hard muscles. And this is not the right place for his pants to feel too tight. Not when he's surrounded by people who are practically strangers and definitely not when his daughter is in the room too.

So there he is; ignoring temptation a few feet from him and flipping Natasha off in his head.

They've been back for a good twenty or thirty minutes, Gabriel and Tim keeping them company, when the noise of repairing suddenly comes to a stop and footsteps start coming toward them. Steeling himself with a quiet intake of breath, Steve lets himself look to his right and sees Bucky coming toward them, somehow making dirty and sweaty look good.

Bucky smiles at him when their eyes meet, a brief disturbance of his previous scowl and hard expression. It suits him but Steve keeps quiet and shoves away the attraction and any thoughts that come with it.

When Bucky is close enough, just a few steps between them, he lifts his left hand and dangles the car keys off of a metal finger. “Wanna do the honors?” he asks, a glint in his eyes. “See if I did a good enough job with your baby?”

Smiling, Steve reaches up to grab the keys. “You bet I do,” he says. “Come on, Cassie. Let's go try it out.”

Cassidy sits on his lap, hands clutched around the wheel and head bowed as she tries and fails to reach the pedals with her feet, while Steve sticks the keys in the ignition. Grabbing onto them, he looks through the front window and locks eyes with Bucky who is standing there, arms crossed and a smile on his lips.

Steve raises his brows in a silent question and when Bucky gives a quick nod, Steve turns the keys and the car starts like it's brand new, making that familiar rumbling noise that Steve has gotten familiar with over the years of ownership.

A wide and toothy smile grows on his lips before he can even think about it and he lifts his gaze to lock eyes with Bucky through the front window again. Bucky's smile looks tight, like it's forced there, but Steve doesn't think too much of it.

“It lives!” he exclaims and brings his hands up in a small celebration. Cassidy does the same, clapping and whooping enthusiastically.

Steve watches as Bucky's smile slowly turns from tight around the edges to soft and something resembling fond, his brows jumping a little and his posture less tense in a breath. And still, Steve doesn't think too much of it.

“Told you it'd be an easy fix,” Bucky says, his voice raised slightly over the running car.

Steve turns it off with a chuckle and, wrapping an arm around Cassidy's middle, he steps back out of the car. “I never doubted you for a second,” he tells Bucky. “But thank you. You really saved my ass from having to spend ages finding a new car.”

“Anytime,” Bucky says with a brief nod.

“As long as you get paid, right?”

Bucky chuckles (it's a nice chuckle, Steve absently notes and absolutely doesn't store away anywhere) and holds up a finger. “Speaking of that,” he says and turns, making a beckoning motion with the same finger as he walks toward the front of the garage where the others are no longer hanging out, spread out across the garage and all working on various vehicles instead.

Steve can see Jim crouched down next to a beautiful motorcycle in the corner and Gabriel standing next to a rusty and old pickup truck, someone else rolled under it and tapping his foot along to the music that's playing from the speakers above.

Steve follows Bucky and Cassidy continues to stay rag dolled in his arm, making him carry her whole weight because apparently that's the most fun she's ever had. He smiles down at her and she grins back up at him, toothy and wide and bright.

However, when they come to a stop by the counter, Steve crouches down and sets her on the floor. He holds out a hand for her to take which she does and instantly starts swinging it back and forth out of boredom.

“Here we go,” Bucky says, snatching two pieces of paper from the counter and handing them to him. “Your bill and the receipt.”

Steve takes them with a smile. “Thank you,” he says and does his best to fold both with just his one hand, his other occupied by Cassidy. “I'll get your payment as soon as possible.”

“Counting on it,” Bucky says. There's a crooked smile on his lips again and he leans back, resting an elbow on the counter and circles the fingers of his right hand around his prosthetic wrist.

Steve has to force himself to not stare, not wanting to be rude even though he's more admiring than he's staring. Thanking Bucky one last time and shaking his hand in goodbye, he drags Cassidy with him back to the car and gets her in her seat, strapping her secure before getting in himself and starting the car again.

And if Steve looks at Bucky for a lingering moment in the back view mirror as he pulls out of the place, then that's his business and no one else's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> All chapters have been written and will be posted regularly. Knowing me, that probably means daily.
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life. <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love! It means a lot to me. <3

The television is on, creating a pleasant background noise, when Steve steps back into the house. In his hand is a pile of mail and his eyes are glued to the postcard laying on the top of it. He can't help but smile down at it as he toes out of his boots, a happy and excited flutter in his heart because he doesn't even need to look at the back to see who it's from. He already knows.

The city of Bucharest is sunny and bright and beautiful on the postcard. There's so much green and blue, the sky clear with a few clouds here and there, and Steve is almost yearning for a vacation.

Hell, maybe he can take Cassidy with him to Bucharest or any of the other hundreds of places they both have looked at on the various postcards they have received over the last seven years.

Steve looks up from the postcard for a brief moment as he passes by the living room. Cassidy is sitting – half lying down, rather – on the couch with her eyes glued to the television screen. He can't see what's being played but he figures it's one of her favorite cartoons. She never does watch anything but those these days, anyway.

“Cassie,” he says and holds up the postcard when she turns to look at him. “Look what came in the mail today.”

“Is that from aunt Rose?” Cassidy asks, perking up instantly as she sits up, all her attention being pulled away from whatever is happening on the screen in front of her.

Steve smiles at her and, with a nod, he walks into the living room and sits down next to her on the couch. “Sure is,” he says and places the rest of the mail on the coffee table while he hands the postcard to an eager Cassidy. “Why don't you read it to me this time?”

Cassidy smiles toothily down at the postcard and nods. “Okay,” she says and flips it over. She scoots closer to him, climbing into his lap, and then starts to read the text written on the back slowly and carefully.

Aunt Rose is... Well, aunt Rose isn't really an aunt at all. At least not to Cassidy, biologically. She's Cassidy's biological mother but has always been more of an aunt than anything else. And she has always wanted it to be that way.

Rose is a free spirit and has always refused to be tied down, which is why Steve's relationship with her never went further than the friends with benefits label. Which was fine – _is_ fine, has always been fine. It worked out great between them; the sex was amazing and Steve was fond of her, always has been and still is, and he considers her a good friend of his. She considers him a good friend too.

Everything was fine and then she got pregnant four months into their strictly sexual relationship. Steve remembers the day she grabbed him and made him sit down, remembers thinking something horrible had happened or she was dying or _someone_ was dying.

But then Rose said those two words and Steve felt his world screech to a halt and make a turn in a completely different direction.

“We've had our fun,” Rose said with a sigh while Steve was still trying to process... everything. “It was never meant to get this far. This,” she let go of Steve's hand to gesture to her stomach, “was never supposed to happen.”

The gesture made Steve's eyes fall down on her stomach and they stuck there. There was a child in there – _his_ child. He was having trouble breathing, the news still not fully processed, and he kind of wanted to cry. Not because it was bad or terrible, no, but because he was unbelievably happy.

“I'm not ready to be a mom, Steve,” Rose said, her voice tight, and Steve looked back up at her. “I'm not ready. There's so much I want to do, so many things...”

While Steve was incredibly happy, it was painfully obvious that Rose did not feel the same.

“But you could still do them,” Steve said, grabbing onto Rose's hands again and squeezing. “After?”

Rose was silent and looked at him calculatingly, her expression carefully blank.

“I know it's your body,” Steve continued hastily, “and you're the one that will have to go through all the changes and all the shit. But if you decide to go through with the pregnancy, I promise to take care of the child.”

Rose stayed silent.

“They'll be my responsibility after,” Steve promised. “You'll be free to do everything you want to do. You won't have to pay for anything. I'll do it all on my own, I promise.”

Rose gave him a calculating look and stayed quiet for a tense minute. Then her face softened ever so slightly and she said, “Wow. You really want this kid, don't you, Steve?”

Steve smiled, somewhat sadly. “It's my kid. Of course I want it.”

Rose was hesitant for the first long while but, eventually, she decided to go through with the pregnancy and then hand over full custody to Steve the second the kid was born. Steve was ecstatic and did everything he could to make the pregnancy a cake walk for her while simultaneously preparing himself for parenthood.

He borrowed all the baby books from Sam and T'Challa, their son three years old at the time and the books collecting dust anyway since they were already prepared for their second kid that was going to be born a month from then. He read the books religiously until he knew them by heart and then a few more times, just in case.

He bought a house in the suburban area that Sam and T'Challa live in, practiced making baby formula until he had it down to a tee, baby secured the entire house months before the due date, everything and more. He even bought an obscene amount of stuffed animals, one of them giant and taking up an entire corner of the kid's room.

The kid wasn't even born yet and Steve was already spoiling the hell out of it, already loved them with his whole heart.

“This child is going to be extremely loved,” T'Challa told him one night when the due date was nearing and Steve was starting to freak out.

“Oh yeah,” Sam agreed instantly from where he was standing, bouncing in place with their newborn daughter asleep in his arms. “Not only by you but by all of us. Me, T'Challa, Nat, everyone. You've got nothing to worry about, man. You've got this.”

Steve felt himself relax at their reassuring words, felt the worry and the anxiety fade away into nothingness. And then Rose went into labor and he started freaking out all over again, marching up and down the halls of the hospital because Rose had kicked him out of the room the second she was told it was almost time to start pushing.

Apparently he had been annoying the living shit out of her and she was fed up with him.

It was a long birth, one that nearly cost Steve his hand from how hard Rose was squeezing it as she pushed after he had been allowed back in. But then there she had been; his daughter, screaming and crying and _there_. Steve isn't ashamed to admit that he teared up the second the nurse put her in his arms.

Rose was barely done recovering from giving birth before she signed the custody papers, packed her bags, and flew to Kenya for her first of many trips of self discovery around the whole planet. Which left Steve alone with his daughter and he wasn't able to take his eyes off of her for even a second during the whole first day of her born life.

He remembers the first time it was just him and her in the hospital room. She was in his arms, so tiny and small and making soft noises in her sleep, and Steve kissed her forehead carefully and whispered, “I'm gonna protect you and love you for the rest of my life. I promise you that, Cassidy.”

He intends to keep that promise, for as long as he lives and breathes.

Even though it's been seven years since she left, Rose still stays in contact. She sends a postcard from whatever city she's visiting at the time and comes by with souvenirs whenever she's back in the states. She never acts like a mother and while Cassidy has always known she's her biological mom, she's never seen her as a mom either.

Rose has always been _aunt Rose_ to Cassidy and that's not going to change. It's not exactly how Steve has always imagined starting a family but he wouldn't have it any other way. He wouldn't change a single thing, not one.

After Cassidy has read the most recent postcard several times and after she has asked a handful of questions about Bucharest (“Ask your aunt next time she calls, she knows more than me.” “Awww, but that's weeks from now!”), Steve presses a kiss to the top of Cassidy's head and stands up from the couch, letting her return to her cartoon.

He scoops up the rest of the mail and heads to the kitchen where he replaces the old postcard pinned to the fridge by a Eiffel Tower magnet with the new one.

♜

Steve is in the middle of designing a logo for some new florist business when his phone buzzes loudly on the table and brings him out of his focus. He blinks a few times as he comes out of his daze before he shoots his phone's lit up screen a glance. When he sees the name displayed on the screen along with an accompanying photo, he rolls his eyes, tugs off the glasses he wears when he draws or reads, and picks up his phone.

“Hey, asshole,” he answers the call with.

“You wanna tell me why Sam is being bitchy toward me?” Natasha asks him in lieu of greeting.

“Nope,” Steve says, popping the p.

“You wanna tell me why _you_ are being bitchy toward me, then?” Natasha asks and Steve can practically hear the brows lifting along with her question.

Steve picks up his pen again and carefully draws another line in the logo, squinting down at the screen of his tablet since he took off his glasses. “Take a wild fucking guess,” he says in a near mumble.

There's a sigh in his ear and then Natasha asks, “Did Bucky fuck up your car?”

“No. He actually improved it.”

“But it's got something to do with him? Because you were not acting like a child a week ago.”

Steve hums, absently doodling in the corner. “Maybe.”

A beat passes and then Natasha speaks again, the tone in her voice bright. “Oh my God.”

Steve freezes. The pen's tip is pressed against the screen, motionlessly resting there. He closes his eyes, bows his head slightly, and braises himself. Natasha always figures him out. Always.

“Are you into him?” Natasha asks, sounding all way too delighted.

“No,” Steve denies immediately, his lie sounding horrible even to his own ears.

“Wow,” Natasha says flatly. “That's your worst lie to date, Steve.”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh and presses his hand to his face, rubbing at his temple. “Don't make a big deal out of it, Nat,” he says. “I just think he's attractive, that's it.”

“Uh huh,” Natasha says. “So when's the wedding?”

Steve groans at her.

“I'm kidding,” she says with a chuckle. “Kind of.”

“Go sit on a fucking cactus, Nat.”

“Don't let Cassidy hear you talk like that. She'll hand your ass to you.”

“Okay, I'm hanging up on you now,” Steve says and does so, tossing his phone onto the table with a clatter.

He doesn't go right back to work, though. Instead he finds himself staring at the phone laying screen down on the table while he bites absently into his bottom lip and thinks, considers. He hesitates for only a minute before he sighs and gives in, picking up the phone and dialing Natasha's number.

“This is Romanoff's Forgiveness Service,” Natasha answers in a voice that has Steve rolling his eyes. “Please leave your apology after the beep.”

“You're an idiot,” Steve tells her. “I'm not calling to apologize–”

“Then I don't wanna talk to you.”

Steve throws his head back and groans at the ceiling above him. “Fine, you asshole. I'm sorry for being a dick.”

“You're forgiven,” Natasha says. “But bring me a bottle of vodka as a proper apology next lunch anyway.”

“Text me which kind and I will.”

“Good boy. So, what did you call me back for? Wedding advice?”

Steve gives the wall in front of him a deadpan look. “Don't make me hang up on you again.”

“You're one who called me, Steve.”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh and sags against the back of his chair. “I was just wondering,” he starts after a minute of hesitation. “Why have you never mentioned Bucky before? Or introduced him to us, since you're apparently friends.”

“You're not doing a very good job at convincing me you're not into him, just so you know.”

“Nat,” he warns.

“Fine, fine,” Natasha says with a small sigh. “I never introduced you guys to Bucky because he's not really a people's person. I've known him for a couple of years and I've never seen him willingly hang out with more than two people.”

“Oh,” Steve lets out in a breath.

“And you have a kid,” Natasha continues. “I didn't think he would be interested in hanging out with a kid if he's not a people's person.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Please tell me you weren't actually considering setting me up with him.”

“Nah,” Natasha says and snorts. “I gave up on setting you up on dates when you turned Sharon down, you know that.”

“Sharon wasn't my type,” Steve reminds her.

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha says. Her eye roll is practically audible. “You're not into blondes, I know that now.”

“ _And_ I'm not interested in dating. I wasn't then and I'm not now.” He doesn't sound terribly convincing to even his own ears.

Natasha hums quietly. “Of course you're not.”

“I'm not,” he insists. Better this time but still not completely convincing.

He isn't interested in dating though. Honestly and truly, he's not. He hasn't been for years, not since Cassidy was born and maybe even before then. Cassidy is his whole life and all he really cares about. She takes up most of his time of the day and the time she spends at school and away from him, he spends buried in his work and the occasional work out when he's procrastinating.

But dating? That's something that hasn't been on his mind for ages. He isn't even really considering it now either, despite his rather obvious and intense attraction to a certain good looking mechanic. He just doesn't have time or energy or maybe even room for a relationship.

Sure, he can feel lonely whenever he sees how happy Sam is with T'Challa and their kids or when he sees how happy Natasha is with Clint or when Rose tells him she's met someone to fool around with in another country.

Sure, it would be nice to have someone to wake up to in the morning, to kiss, to hold, to have sex with, but it's fine. He's fine.

He's not fine. But it's okay because he has Cassidy and that is more than enough.

“Okay,” Natasha says, sounding nowhere near convinced. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Steve tells her and leans forward in his chair. He grabs his glasses and slides them on before he glances at the clock at the top corner of his tablet and sighs, feeling exhaustion finally creep up on him. “Anyway, I should go get some sleep. It's getting late.”

“Good idea,” Natasha says with a smile in her voice. “Give Cassie a hug from me when she wakes up.”

“Will do,” Steve says and pushes his chair back to stand. “And say hi to Clint whenever he's awake enough to open his eyes.”

Natasha huffs. “You can do that yourself.”

“Then you can give Cassie a hug yourself too.”

“Shut up and get some sleep, old man.”

“I'm only a year older than you, Nat.”

“And yet you've acted like you're ninety since I met you.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns off the lights in his office space as he steps out, lowering his voice just slightly. “I'm hanging up on you now,” he tells her.

“Sleep tight, old man,” Natasha says. “Don't break your back when you get up.”

“I hate you,” Steve says and then hangs up before she can laugh for more than a second.

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants and pushes the glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he makes his way down the brightly lit hallway. When he makes it to the end of it, he lightly pushes the slightly ajar door open a little further and silently sticks his head inside.

Cassidy is sound asleep in her bed, covers pulled up to her ears and her dark blonde hair gathered in a braid that is laid messily on her pillow. She has a stuffed animal – the whale, it looks like – clutched to her chest and her breathing is deep and even.

Steve leans against the frame of the door and smiles at the sight, a happy feeling warming his heart at her slight snoring. It doesn't matter if his love life is non-existing and has been since... well, since Peggy because Rose wasn't really _love_. It doesn't matter because as long as he has Cassidy, he's going to be okay.

Silently and carefully, Steve steps into her room and walks over to the side of her bed. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, smiling down at her when she snuffles and shifts in her sleep.

“I love you,” he whispers quietly to her and brushes a hand over the top of her head. He stays with her for only another minute before he turns and pulls the door slightly ajar again on his way out.

His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he gets into bed himself, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and body weighing a ton. But with a sigh, he reaches out and opens the new message anyway, already rolling his eyes before he even gets it open.

> **[** 11:58 PM **] Natasha** : https://americanretirementhomes.org/

Groaning, Steve sends back the middle finger emoji then puts his phone on silent and rolls onto his side to fall asleep.

♜

Steve isn't interested in dating, doesn't even think about it, that much is true. But that doesn't mean he isn't interested in getting to know Bucky. Strictly to befriend him, of course. Just because the guy is stupidly attractive and just happens to be exactly Steve's type physically, that doesn't mean Steve has any interest in seeking a romantic relationship with him. It doesn't.

A platonic one, however? Those he can never get enough of.

Only problem is, he has never been very good or graceful at actually starting them.

He befriended Sam by sort of just attaching himself to him and running by him on the hallways of their high school until Sam finally had enough and responded to his snarky passerby comments with his own. It was the start of a beautiful and life long friendship, sure, but not the best start.

In Steve's defense, Sam was also his very first friend. Steve used to – maybe still does – drive people crazy and no one really wanted to stick around him for long. Sam was the first who did.

Steve's friendship with Natasha had an even messier start. Natasha is a cop, a good one at that, and Steve used to have a habit with getting in trouble. Trouble meaning picking fights with assholes and blowing it up more than necessary.

Long story short, Natasha arrested him and somehow they ended up becoming friends.

He met Clint through Natasha (Clint is actually the one who introduced him to Rose) and T'Challa through Sam, both of which he befriended quickly because he put an effort into making himself likable. Well, after they proved they really cared for his friends, of course.

Steve has never really been good at befriending people but that doesn't stop him from plotting anyway. He finds himself doing so on a Saturday evening while he's cleaning the kitchen and while Cassidy is in her room, entertaining herself with her toys.

Natasha said that Bucky isn't much of a people's person. She said that he never willingly hangs out with more than two people at once. Okay, Steve can work with that. He's just one person, Cassidy makes them two.

Bucky didn't seem to have a problem with Cassidy back at the mechanic – actually, he seemed to like her quite a lot which, hello, bonus – so Steve can probably bring her with and soften the guy up a little with Cassidy's bright personality.

But, then again, Bucky could have just been polite.

With a sigh, Steve decides to just get Bucky one on one for the time being. He can warm him up to befriending Cassidy as well if the guy really doesn't like kids. Natasha used to always claim to not like kids and yet now she adores Cassidy and loves Sam and T'Challa's kids, Ayanna and Adwin, so it's not completely impossible.

But how, that's the question. How is he supposed to get Bucky one on one? If he asks Natasha, he's never going to hear the end of it. It would just become something she'd tease him with for the rest of his life, even if his mission to befriend Bucky doesn't work out at all. Hell, that would probably only make the teasing that much worse.

Asking Natasha for help is out of the question.

Which means he has to find a way to “accidentally” run into Bucky himself. Since he doesn't know him, Steve has no idea where that could possibly happen outside the Commandos Auto Repair. Maybe he can just break his own car and–

“Really?” Steve asks his own reflection in a spoon he has picked up from the dishwasher, his reflection looking back at him with a deadpan expression. “Are you a fucking idiot?”

Shaking his head at himself and letting out a small and tired sigh, Steve turns back to emptying the dishwasher. In his mind, he's already starting to form another possible reason to go back to the mechanic to see Bucky but he doesn't get to finish the thought.

“Daaad!” Cassidy's voice pulls him out of his thoughts and Steve looks over his shoulder to see Cassidy coming into the kitchen.

“What's up, Cassie?”

“Can I borrow your good pens?” Cassidy asks and walks over to him. Her hands are behind her back and her eyes are big and round and pleading.

Steve smiles at her. “Only,” he says and bends down to lift her off the ground, “if I get to draw with you.”

Cassidy hums as she thinks, leaning into him a little. “Okay, you can draw with me.”

Steve kisses the side of her face audibly, smiling when she laughs. “Thank you, you're the best.”

“You're the best too, daddy.”

♜

Drawing with Cassidy is one of Steve's favorite pastimes.

As a graphic designer, he draws for a living and sometimes the thing he used to do for fun and when he felt too frustrated to deal with reality becomes something of a chore. Sometimes it feels more like a tiring job he doesn't enjoy even though he loves creating art.

He has always dreamed of becoming a famous artist, has always dreamed of one day seeing a painting he did hanging in a museum somewhere. He never thought he would be designing logos and advertisements and posters, occasionally websites and the rare book cover, but here he is doing it anyway.

It's the perfect job for him though. It allows him to work from home which was perfect when Cassidy was born. Steve didn't trust anyone to look after his girl, didn't want to be apart from her for even a second, so working from home was the only option he had at the time.

Being a graphic designer isn't so bad most of the time. But sometimes he forgets how much he enjoys drawing and creating art which is why he's overjoyed that Cassidy has taken an interest in drawing as well.

Drawing with Cassidy is how Steve remembers just how much he loves doing it.

They've been sitting in pleasant silence for only a handful of minutes, both of them consumed by their own drawing, when Cassidy looks up from her paper and leans over to look at Steve's. She stares for a few seconds before she pouts, slumps slightly, and breaks the silence.

“You're way better than me,” she says and looks down at her own drawing.

Steve lifts his gaze from his drawing and looks at her. “Hey,” he says and puts down his pen, reaching over to nudge her chin and make her look at him. He smiles softly at her. “You can't compare two artists to each other. It's like comparing an orange to a whale.”

Cassidy makes a face at him, snorting.

“I'm not better,” he tells her. “I'm just,” he shrugs, “different. I have my style, you have yours. And yours is as good as mine. I've had a lot of years to practice it and you'll get there too if you keep at it.”

Cassidy considers him for a moment before she shrugs. “Okay,” she says and returns to her drawing.

She doesn't seem all that cheered up, Steve notices immediately. There's still a slump in her shoulders, she's still sagging over the table, and she's not drawing as enthusiastically as she was before. So he grabs his chair and scoots himself closer to her, wrapping an arm around the back of her chair and leaning in to look at her drawing.

“Tell me about your drawing,” he says and kisses the side of her head.

Cassidy seems to perk up quickly at that and Steve can't help but smile as she tells him all about the princess on her drawing. The princess is wielding a sword, she tells him, and fighting all the bad guys on her own.

“Are you the princess?” he asks her and points down on the drawing.

“No,” Cassidy scoffs. “I'm the dragon, obviously.”

“Ah, of course,” Steve says and leans closer to her, wrapping both arms around her. “Cassidy Rogers, the mighty dragon. Hoarder of all the good pens.”

He tickles her and she squeals and laughs and wiggles in her seat, momentarily forgetting all about drawing while Steve forgets all about Bucky the mechanic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life. <3


	3. Chapter 3

“Cassidy!” Steve calls down the hall, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “We've gotta go or we'll be late, come on!”

“It takes five minutes to get there!” Cassidy calls back from inside her room.

Steve rolls his eyes and goes down the hall, sticking his head into her room to give her a look. She's sitting on the floor, still fiddling with her shoelaces like she was doing the last time he poked his head in. That was ten minutes ago.

“And we're already two minutes late,” Steve says. “So hurry up, missy.”

“They won't care if we're late though,” Cassidy argues with a sigh and lets go of the messy knot of shoelaces.

“Uncle T'Challa might not but uncle Sam definitely will,” Steve says and leans against the door frame. “Besides, aren't you excited to see Ayanna?”

“Yeah.” Cassidy sighs and looks up at him with a defeated look in her eyes. “Dad, can you help me with my shoes? They're being stupid.”

Steve smiles at her and says, “Of course I can.”

It only takes them five more minutes to get out of the house. Steve has to fiddle with the mess that is Cassidy's knotted shoelaces for four of them and apparently Cassidy finds that hilarious. It's an annoying mess but Steve is okay with it because Cassidy laughs anytime he finds himself getting frustrated.

And, because things never change with them, Steve ends up cursing twice and Cassidy calls him out both times.

♜

T'Challa is the one who opens the front door when they finally make it to the Wilsons', only ten or so minutes later than they were invited to. Steve silently crosses his fingers, hoping Sam is too busy doing something else to notice what time it is.

“You're late,” T'Challa says in lieu of a greeting and gives him a look that Steve knows he has picked up from Sam.

“I know,” Steve says with a sigh and ushers Cassidy inside when T'Challa steps aside to let them in. “We had a shoelace problem.”

“That took,” T'Challa pauses, lifting his arm and pushing his sleeve up sightly to give his watch a glance, “twelve minutes to fix?”

“Surprisingly, yeah.”

T'Challa smiles at him although he's trying to hide it. Steve easily catches the amusement in the small smile anyway and he narrows his eyes at him in a silent warning. Not that it will do anything. T'Challa has never once been scared of him, not even when Steve was playing his card as Sam's overprotective best friend back in the day.

Cassidy interrupts their little staring match by stepping forward into T'Challa's middle for a hug. “Where's Ayanna?” she asks and tilts her head back to look up at him.

“In her room,” T'Challa says and puts a hand on her back, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Waiting for you.”

“Okay, bye!” Cassidy says loudly, a wide and toothy smile brightening her face instantly.

She runs off, thundering up the stairs with eagerness and urgency. Only a handful of seconds later, Steve can hear both her and Ayanna squeal at each other like they haven't seen each other in weeks, even though they saw each other only a day ago.

His own fond smile is mirrored by T'Challa.

“So,” Steve says and moves to follow T'Challa toward the backyard where he can hear the faint sound of sizzling and familiar voices. “I didn't see Nat's car in the driveway. She and Clint not coming or what?”

“They are also running late,” T'Challa says, not looking at him this time. The look is implied.

Steve winces. Natasha and Clint being late only makes him and Cassidy being late that much worse. Sam never really cares, not after the first many times where Steve didn't show up on time for anything, but Steve knows it bothers him. Even if it's only a little, it does bother him and Steve hates that it keeps happening.

He would love to blame the shitty universe and its constant plotting against him but he knows the blame is on him. Always has been. Sam never lets him forget it either.

When they step out through the sliding doors leading to the backyard, the first thing Steve sees is Sam standing by the grill, one hand on his hip and the other wrapped around a spatula that he has wedged underneath a steak cooking on the grill. He's slightly turned, his attention not on them.

The second thing Steve sees is Adwin, Sam and T'Challa's ten year old son, sitting on the wooden bench nearby and their black cat Panther purring in his lap. Adwin is the one who notices them first, sitting faced toward the house.

A toothy smile immediately spreads across his lips when his eyes flicker from his dad to Steve and Steve doesn't hesitate to smile back, raising a hand in a silent greeting.

The smile, however, falters on his lips when Sam turns to look at him too.

“You're late,” Sam says after a beat and puts on his best Dad Face.

Steve lets out a sigh and steps over toward him. “I know,” he says and meets Sam halfway for a hug. “I'm sorry. We had a shoelace problem.”

Sam snorts and gives him a firm squeeze before they part. “You're forgiven,” he says and pats Steve's shoulder. “But I'm gonna keep giving you watches for your birthday until you learn how to be on time for once.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says with a huff. “Hasn't worked yet, don't see it working anytime soon.”

Sam shrugs a shoulder and says, “You gotta learn sometime.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. With a smile resting on his lips, he turns his attention to the steaks sizzling on the grill. “You remembered to make me a white person steak, right?” he asks.

“Who do you think I am?” Sam gives him an offended look. “Of course I remembered to make you a white person steak, with extra nothing and a smidgen of salt. It physically hurt me but I did it.”

Steve smiles widely, wraps an arm around Sam's shoulders, and gives him a squeeze. “You're the best friend a guy could ask for,” he says and leans into him.

“Alright, get off of me,” Sam says, laughing as he elbows Steve in the ribs. “I'm a married man. You're gonna make my husband jealous.”

“Naw,” Steve says and peers over at where T'Challa is standing, watching them with his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. Steve smiles innocently at him. “He knows we're just playin'.”

T'Challa slowly steps over to them and says, “Sometimes I have my doubts.”

“Aw, baby,” Sam says and grabs a fistful of T'Challa's shirt, pulling him in. “You know I've only got eyes for you.”

With a quiet hum, T'Challa leans in and gives Sam a sweet kiss that Sam returns instantly. Steve smiles at them, taking another step back as the two of them share a few other soft kisses.

Adwin scoffs. “Ew, you guys are gross,” he says while scrunching his nose. “Do you have to kiss right in front of me?”

Steve laughs. “This better?” he asks as he sits down next to him, purposely blocking out the view of his parents still kissing each other over and over again.

Steve wants to agree with Adwin, wants to tell Sam and T'Challa to get a room, but he was also around when those two were just starting their relationship. He has seen much, much worse.

(Much, much worse meaning both of their asses. Several times.

And a dick one time.

Steve tries to never think about it.)

“I can still hear them,” Adwin points out dryly.

Steve hears T'Challa chuckle and then the kissing noises stop behind them.

Panther stretches in Adwin's lap and makes a soft purring noise. Steve smiles down at her and reaches over to scratch under her chin. She purrs loudly at the attention.

“So,” Steve says and looks at Adwin. “How's the science going?”

Adwin doesn't hesitate to start telling him exactly how it's going, his face slowly brightening with excitement as he goes on. Steve does his best at keeping up and following what he's talking about but science has never been his strong suit and he feels a bit lost as he listens.

Well, to be fair, not much has ever been his strong suit when it comes to school. He's never bothered much with it because it bored him.

Seeing Adwin talk so excitedly and passionately about the thing he genuinely cares about and finds interesting though? That's the opposite of boring and Steve happily listens and asks questions when he needs to, all of which Adwin is more than willing to answer.

Steve catches the proud looks on both T'Challa and Sam's faces.

♜

Ayanna and Cassidy come outside a good thirty minutes after they arrived. They come nearly sprinting out of the open slide doors, hand in hand and giggling to themselves. It's not long though before their hands slide apart and they each move in their own direction; Cassidy to launch herself at Sam in a greeting hug and Ayanna at Steve in a similar sense.

Steve hugs Ayanna back with a chuckle, not bothered by the tight squeeze around his neck in the slightest. He looks over at Sam who lifts Cassidy up from the ground and returns the hug and finds himself smiling when Sam only laughs at Cassidy's tight squeeze.

The two girls detach themselves from them and then run off to the swing set that's set up further down the yard. Steve's smile grows momentarily wider as the sound of their childish laughter fills the yard, gleeful and bright and full of life.

He only listens for a moment though before he turns his attention back to Adwin since their previous conversation was interrupted. Only, Adwin isn't looking back at him. Instead he's watching his sister and Cassidy climbing around on the swing set.

“Go ahead,” Steve says and nudges him in encouragement. “You can go join them. We'll talk later.”

Adwin turns to him and asks, “Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” Steve promises and makes a move to do so.

Adwin smiles at him, wide and toothy, and lifts Panther off of his lap. He puts her in Steve's lap instead and takes off to join the other two, the childish laughter growing louder when he gets there.

Steve watches them for a minute while his hand moves down to pet Panther. Only, when his hand moves, he finds his lap empty. He looks around and finds her gracefully walking between T'Challa's legs and meowing up at him. When T'Challa's attention doesn't move away from Sam, however, Panther moves on and goes to lay down in a sunny and warm spot on the grass.

“I guess I'll just entertain myself then,” Steve says loudly and pointedly gives the two of them a look.

Sam flips him off behind his husband's back, carefully out of view of the kids, and then pointedly puts his hand on T'Challa's ass. All without bothering to give Steve a single glance.

Steve laughs at Sam's pouting face when T'Challa pries his hand off of his ass. He leans back on the bench and drapes an arm over the back, a relaxed smile resting on his lips.

It's not long before Sam hands out the grilling duties to T'Challa and steps away after the two share a brief but sweet kiss. He moves over to flop down next to Steve on the bench and tips his head back with a heavy sigh.

Steve pokes teasingly at his side and Sam swats his hand away with a grunt and a, “Let me rest for one goddamn minute, you ass.”

Steve keeps poking and poking and poking until Sam flies up, grabs him in a headlock, and gives him a noogie.

It's not long either before the sound of rapid knocking comes from the front door, the sound only just making it to the backyard. Sam groans and, without letting go of Steve's head despite Steve struggling to get out, looks at his watch.

“Forty-nine minutes late,” he says and bends down to share a look with Steve. “That's gotta be a new record.”

“You're forgetting T'Challa's birthday,” Steve says, getting his head back when Sam stands up. “Two years ago, I think. They were an hour and a half late.”

“Doesn't count,” Sam says as he heads toward the house. “They told me they were gonna be an hour late so really, it was only about thirty minutes.”

“Yet I'm only ten minutes late and you keep giving me shit for it.”

“Language, dad!” Cassidy yells much closer than Steve expects and then there's a seven year old hopping into his lap, smiling widely at him.

Steve smiles right back and wraps an arm around her, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“Good girl, Cassie!” Sam calls from where he's stepped into the house.

“Thanks!” Cassidy calls back and then laughs loudly when Steve blows a raspberry to her cheek, keeping his grip around her tight while she wiggles in his hold. “Daddy, stop! You're scratchy!”

“Deal with it,” Steve says against her cheek and then blows another which only makes her laugh louder.

Ayanna comes walking over only a second later, a lazy and sleepy looking Panther in her arms. She sits down next to them and Cassidy makes herself comfortable in Steve's lap while she reaches out to pet the cat now purring in Ayanna's lap.

Steve smiles at them and runs a hand through Cassidy's wild hair. Inside the house, he can hear familiar voices talking. He can't hear what any of them are saying but the voices are getting closer and closer.

As is the sound of rushing and clacking footsteps and Steve smiles before Lucky even appears in the doorway.

Lucky comes rushing outside, tongue lolling out of his mouth and tail wagging wildly. Lucky is Clint's service dog but, judging by the lack of his vest, he's off duty at the moment and gets to run around freely which he definitely doesn't hesitate to do.

Lucky runs in a circle around T'Challa's legs and briefly runs to Steve and the girls for a quick greeting but he's sprinting right for Adwin within ten seconds of making it outside. He barks and jumps and then flops onto his back on the ground, very obviously begging for belly rubs that Adwin gives him immediately.

Sam comes walking back out into the backyard a minute after, Clint walking next to him with an arm slung lazily over his shoulders and an easy grin on his lips. His hands are moving in rapid sign language while his lips move in verbal language but Steve can't hear what he's saying.

Not when both Cassidy and Ayanna make a high pitched noise and scramble over his lap to run over to them. Sam only just manages to make Clint aware of the children coming barreling toward them before they're there and he suddenly has two girls attacking him.

Clint has zero problem with the surprise though. He just lets himself be pulled down and falls backwards onto the ground with a laugh while Cassidy and Ayanna climb onto him and sits down.

“I have been defeated!” Clint announces loudly, and Cassidy and Ayanna laugh. “Taken down by the fierce warriors!”

“We win!” Ayanna yells and turns to give Cassidy a high five.

Steve smiles at them and, leaning back against the bench, he watches them tussle with Clint.

They have always been like this. Clint is like a five year old in a grown man's body, if you look past the extensive coffee drinking and the long list of Problems with a capital P. The kids have always adored him and he has always adored the kids.

Plus, he has a dog which always wins people over. It certainly won Adwin over immediately and now Lucky always goes to him first because he knows Adwin will play with him when he's off duty.

“Don't be too rough on him,” T'Challa says when the girls start bouncing on Clint. “You wouldn't want to break your uncle, would you?”

“Nooo!” Cassidy says, although she keeps bouncing in place. Not as much as before but still.

“No what?” Clint asks. He sounds a little strained.

“Utata said we shouldn't be rough with you because you might break,” Ayanna says. She, unlike Cassidy, has stopped bouncing and is now sitting still on Clint.

“Oh.” Clint waves a hand and pff's. “I'm not that easy to break, bounce away.”

Cassidy and Ayanna look at each other with wide grins stretching their lips. T'Challa rolls his eyes and sighs in defeat but does nothing to stop them when they start to bounce again, and Steve bites back a laugh.

“Can someone tell me why Clint is on the ground already?” a familiar voice asks from the doorway and Steve follows it with a smile already growing on his lips.

Only to have it freeze in place when his eyes find Natasha standing there. A brow is quirked upward as she looks down at her boyfriend being treated like a bouncy castle, a small but amused smile curling at the corner of her lips.

She's not why his smile has frozen on his lips though.

No, the reason is stood behind her with his brows furrowed and an amused but confused smile on his lips.

Bucky.

He looks a lot less dirty than the last time Steve saw him; his previous messy and thick stubble has been trimmed down to a neat and clean one instead, his hair is pulled back into a bun, and there is no oil smudged anywhere on his face, no sweat covering his skin.

He almost look like a completely different person but that is definitely Bucky Barnes.

Steve swallows thickly despite his sudden dry throat. Damn, when did he become so thirsty?

“You know what?” Natasha continues and holds up both her hands as she steps further outside. “I don't really want to know.”

“Wise choice,” T'Challa says with a nod.

“We defeated him!” Cassidy yells, smiling brightly while Ayanna springs up from Clint to wrap herself around Natasha's middle. There's already a smile on Natasha's lips but it only grows as she hugs her back.

“About time,” Natasha says and sends Cassidy a wink. “You did good.”

“If you keep encouraging them,” Sam says, “you might end up with no boyfriend.”

Natasha waves a hand at him and lets Ayanna take her other. “Clint is resilient. He'll be fine.”

“Dad,” Cassidy says and Steve finally snaps out of his daze. “What does resilient mean?”

Steve tears his eyes away from Bucky a split second before Bucky looks his way and catches him staring. His eyes catch Natasha's for a second and he sees the knowing look in hers but ignores it. Instead he turns to Cassidy and clears his throat, shifting a little.

“It means that someone's tougher than they look,” he tells her. He hesitates before glancing back at Bucky and catches him looking. He offers him a quick smile and hopes that the heat in his cheeks isn't as visible as it feels.

“I am the most resilient,” Clint says and throws his arms up before letting them drop around Cassidy. “But I'm old and my back is starting to hurt. Is the dead man allowed to get up, Cassie?”

Cassidy hums in thought. “Okay,” she says eventually and stands, giggling when Clint sits up and wraps his arms around her in a hug.

Steve watches the two for a moment but his attention is quickly pulled away when Bucky moves toward him after shaking hands with T'Challa. He swallows, runs a hand over his beard, and puts on a friendly smile while silently telling himself to be cool.

Not that he's ever been cool, not once in his entire life, but you gotta start sometime, right?

“Nice to see you again, Steve,” Bucky says and holds out his right hand. There's a small smile on his lips that looks more than a little forced.

Right. Steve recalls Natasha telling him that Bucky isn't much of a people's person. For a moment, he wonders why he's even there then. He saves the question for later and reaches up to shake Bucky's hand.

“Right back at you, Bucky,” he says and lets go before he forgets to. “Did Natasha force you along or did the food tempt you?”

Bucky chuckles and sits down next to him, carefully avoiding Panther who's sound asleep and stretched out on the bench.

“She kinda dragged me along,” he tells him and leans back. He drapes his left arm over the back of the bench and Steve only allows himself one glance at the prosthetic before he looks away. “Said I had no choice. Plus, I mean, the free food is a great bonus.”

Steve lets out a huff of a chuckle and nods. “Good point.”

Lucky comes running over to them and it pulls Steve's attention away from Bucky the moment he puts his head in his lap and looks at him with his big, brown eyes. His tail is wagging and Steve smiles down at him as he reaches out to pet him.

“Hi to you too, Lucky,” he says and scratches behind his ear. He glances up and sees Adwin come over toward them. “Did you leave poor Adwin all to himself? Rude, Lucky.”

“We were done playing anyway;” Adwin says with a shrug. He comes to a stop in front of them and bends down to pet Lucky who leans into his hands with a happy huff. He looks to Bucky, nods, and says, “Hi.”

“Hey, man,” Bucky says with a smile that's nowhere near as tight or forced as his previous one. “I'm Bucky.”

“I'm Adwin,” Adwin says. He pauses for a moment, hesitating, before he gestures to Bucky's prosthetic. “Is that a Stark arm?”

Bucky lifts his left arm and wiggles the mechanical fingers, the movement not as smooth as real fingers would be but it's still incredible. Steve catches the look of awe and marvel on Adwin's face, and he doesn't even try to fight the smile that spreads onto his lips.

“Nah,” Bucky says. “I can't afford that kinda thing. This,” he wiggles the fingers again, “is a Shield prosthetic. You can touch it, if you wanna.”

Adwin doesn't need to be told twice. He moves over to sit on Bucky's other side and reaches out to gingerly run a few fingers over the arm. The more he touches, the wider his smile becomes and the fonder Bucky's smile gets.

And the fonder Bucky's smile gets, the more Steve's heart pounds. He feels eyes on him and when he looks, he sees Natasha watching him with a teasing look in her eyes. Their eyes lock and Natasha wiggles her brows at him. Steve gives her a sour look and resists the urge to flip her off.

“Awesome,” Adwin breathes and wraps his hand around a couple of Bucky's fingers. His smile is blinding and his eyes are bright with wonder and awe.

“Everyone!” Sam calls not long after, interrupting the starting conversation between the two of them. Adwin doesn't take his hand off of Bucky's and Bucky doesn't seem bothered by it. “Food is served. Let's dig in!”

♜

“So,” Bucky says as he leans back on his seat, his prosthetic hand resting on his stomach while his right is clutched around his cup of water.

“So,” Steve echoes and turns toward him, a lazy smile on his lips.

The food has been eaten and gone for a long time, almost all the plates empty and stomachs full. The kids managed to drag Clint away from the table with them before he was finished with his own food but he didn't seem to mind and just ran with them with a piece of steak still in his mouth. Lucky certainly didn't mind it because Clint leaving meant he got to eat whatever was left on his plate.

The kids are currently playing on the swing set; Adwin is on Clint's shoulders and Cassidy is sitting on one of the swings with Ayanna standing behind her, one foot on either side of her as they swing slowly back and forth. The yard is full of kids' laughter and pleasant talk around the table where the rest of them are still seated.

Before she took off, Cassidy was sat right next to Steve, eating both off of her own plate and off of his. At least she managed to eat everything on her plate, even the vegetables, which is a definite plus.

Sam was and still is sitting on Steve's other side, T'Challa with his arm slung over his shoulders casually, and Natasha is seated by the end of the table, her feet propped up on the chair Clint has abandoned with Lucky sleeping in its shadow.

Bucky is sitting across the table from Steve and while that's completely distracting and absolutely Natasha's fault, there is one thing Steve hasn't been unable to notice; Bucky is amazing with kids.

While it makes Steve incredibly happy, it also confuses him a bit. Natasha told him she didn't think Bucky likes kids and yet there he is; seeming totally fine with kids.

“So,” Bucky says again and lets out a little chuckle at the awkwardness. “Uh... Natasha mentioned you're an artist?”

Steve lets out a small huff and says, “I wouldn't exactly say that.”

“No?” Bucky urges and leans forward curiously.

“Nah.” Steve shrugs a shoulder. “I'm a graphic designer.”

“Well.” Bucky pauses and squints a little in thought, pursing his lips. “I guess that's sorta makes you an artist.”

“In the sense that I draw? Yeah. Nat likes to exaggerate and make it sound more impressive than it is.”

“Lies,” Natasha pipes up from the end of the table.

“Shut up, Nat,” Steve says without taking his eyes off of Bucky. “No one invited you to this conversation.”

He doesn't need to look to know that Natasha sticks her tongue out at him. He doesn't want to either because that would mean taking his eyes off of Bucky and when Bucky grins widely at him and chuckles, he suddenly doesn't want to.

“Exaggerating or not,” Bucky says, “I still think it's pretty impressive. I mean, you are making a living off of drawing. Not everyone can do that.”

“I guess so,” Steve says. “Doesn't always pay very well but I manage.”

“You got a,” Bucky visible hesitates, shifting a little in his seat, “wife? Girlfriend? Uh, whatever helping you out or somethin'?”

Slowly, a smile forms on Steve's lips. As oblivious as he may be about a lot of things, even he knows fishing when he hears it.

“Well, I'm single,” he says. “So, no. I've got some money in the bank though so even though my job doesn't always pay the best, we make do.” What he doesn't say is that all his mom's money went to him when she died and money hasn't been much of a problem since.

“Ah,” Bucky says and nods. “So Cassidy's mom is, what?”

“In, uh,” Steve starts and then cuts himself off when he realizes he doesn't remember. He holds up a finger at Bucky, turns, and calls out, “Cassie!”

“What!” Cassidy calls back a moment later.

“Where's Rose?” he asks.

“Bucharest!” Cassidy answers and then laughs loudly when she and Ayanna nearly tip backwards on the swing.

Steve smiles at them and turns back to Bucky. “She's in Bucharest,” he tells him.

Bucky is looking at him, confusion written all over his face and a silent question in his raised brows.

“She doesn't really have a mom,” Steve elaborates. “Never did. Her biological mom, Rose, didn't wanna be a mom so she gave me full custody after giving birth. She's been traveling the world since and she's a lot more like an aunt than a mom to Cassie.”

“Oh,” Bucky says. “That's pretty cool.”

“Well, it's a bit... I don't know, unusual? But yeah, I guess so. It works for us.”

“So it's just you two?”

“Yep,” Steve says with a nod. “Just me and Cassie.”

Slowly, a smile spreads across Bucky's lips. “You did a really good job with that one then.”

“Thanks,” Steve says and dips his chin when he feels his cheeks heating up with a blush.

A silence falls between them and Steve starts to slowly tune into the others' conversation. But when he notices that Bucky isn't doing the same and is instead watching the kids now both climbing on Clint and the swing set, Steve can't stop himself from asking what he's wanted to ask for an hour.

“I don't mean to be an ass,” he starts, giving a small and apologetic smile when Bucky turns back to him, “but uh, Natasha told me you're not much of a people's person?”

“Yeah, I'm not. I don't really like people.” Bucky pauses for a beat. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Steve assures him. “People can be fucking assholes.”

Bucky snaps his fingers at him and says, “Damn right they can.”

“Right. So.” Steve pauses for a moment, hesitating as he tries to figure out how to ask. “You don't... I don't know, you don't seem to mind kids that much?”

Bucky smiles at him. “People are complicated and generally a mess,” he says. “Kids are easy. They say what they mean, do what they want, and they don't give a shit. You don't have to pretend around kids 'cause they really don't care. I like that. If I could only be around kids and if that wouldn't be super weird and fucking creepy, I would. Kids are awesome.”

Steve doesn't bother fighting the smile that grows while Bucky is talking. And when he finishes, the smile grows into a grin.

“So, Natasha was wrong?” he asks slowly.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says with a snort. “We're friends and all but she doesn't know everything about me.”

Steve's grin only grows wider and he turns to look at Natasha. It takes a moment but then Natasha looks back at him and her eyes narrow little by little while Steve's grin widens.

“What?” she asks almost defensively.

Sam and T'Challa both fall quiet, eyes flickering between the two.

“I feel like I need popcorn for this,” Sam whispers and T'Challa chuckles under his breath.

“You,” Steve says and lifts a finger to point at her. “You were wrong.”

An amused huff comes from Bucky but Steve doesn't take his eyes off of Natasha. Not when her lips get pulled into a thin line and her narrowed eyes turn into a glare and definitely not when her hand moves to the dirty knife resting on her empty plate.

“Don't make me hurt you, Rogers,” she threatens and Steve only grins wider at her.

“You, Natasha Romanoff, were wrong,” he says, ignoring her threat even as she grabs the knife and points it at him. “And you always go 'round bragging about how you're so good at reading people and yet here you are; wrong.”

“To be fair, I ain't easy to read,” Bucky says.

“You know who is easy to read?” Natasha asks and grins wickedly. “Steve.”

Steve's grin immediately falls. “Don't you dare, Nat.”

She doesn't need to say anything, doesn't even need to look anywhere near Bucky for Steve to know what she's threatening with. He will deny that he's into him for as long as he can but that doesn't mean he's gonna let Natasha openly tease him about it. No fucking way.

“Then shut up,” Natasha says and puts down the knife.

“Okay,” Sam says and looks at Natasha. “Now you've made me curious.”

Natasha waves a dismissive hand at him and says, “I'll tell you later.”

“Nat,” Steve groans. “Don't you fucking dare.”

Sam immediately turns his pointing finger at him accusingly. “Cassie!” he calls out and smiles widely. “Your dad is swearing!”

Steve gives him a deadpan look while Cassidy yells out, “Language, dad!”

Across the table, Bucky lowers his head a little and laughs. He lets out a breath before lifting his head and looking around them with a smile curling at his lips. “You guys aren't so bad,” he tells them.

“Well, I'm glad you're having fun while my own family bullies me,” Steve says and leans heavily back in his seat with a forced pout.

“Dramatic,” T'Challa mutters under his breath but Steve hears it anyway and sends him a sour look.

“We only bully you because we love you,” Natasha says.

“Three minutes ago you were threatening me with a knife,” Steve says dryly.

“Out of love.”

Steve gives her a deadpan look and she smiles sweetly back. Bucky laughs again and, this time, Sam and T'Challa join him.

The conversation comes to an end when Clint throws himself in his seat with a heavy sigh, carefully avoiding Natasha's feet still propped up on it. His movements startles Lucky a little but it doesn't take much before he lays back down with a soft huffs and goes back to sleep.

“I am beat, you guys,” Clint says. He's panting a little and there's a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. “Your kids have way too much energy.”

“You're just getting old,” T'Challa says and takes a sip from his glass of water.

Clint holds out his hands and makes an offended noise. “I'm the youngest one here!”

Steve nudges Clint's knee under the table to get him to look at him. “Which is how we know you're getting old, pal,” he says and lifts his hands to sign as well.

Clint pouts and slumps a little.

Chuckling, Natasha leans over to kiss his cheek. “It's okay,” she says when he glances her way. “I still like you.”

Steve ignores the pull of jealousy that tugs at his heart when Clint smiles and leans in to kiss Natasha on the lips. He's not jealous because he's interested in either of them, no. He never has been and never will be. It is, however, the same kind of jealousy he feels whenever he sees how happy Sam and T'Challa are together, the jealousy of having someone to love like that.

But instead of watching them and instead of fixating on that jealousy, Steve scoots his chair back a little and lets Cassidy climb into his lap when she comes sprinting over with Ayanna and Adwin on her heels.

Whenever he feels lonely or jealous or whatever negative feelings his heart and brain likes to give him, he looks at Cassidy and all of it washes away. She's always made everything better. Every single thing. Before her, he didn't really have any plans for his life and now he does. She's his life, his future, his everything. So what if he doesn't have any love life? He can live without it.

He can live with having to look at people like Bucky, feel that attraction, and then do nothing about it. That's fine. A bit sad, maybe, but it's been seven years and he doesn't feel like he's missing out.

At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

♜

Despite being the last to arrive, Natasha, Clint, and Bucky are the first to leave.

They all moved the get-together inside once the sun decided to hide behind gray clouds and it rapidly started to get chilly outside. Cassidy and Ayanna went straight to Ayanna's room, only pausing to get out of their shoes when T'Challa called after them.

T'Challa and Adwin are currently sitting in the living room, Panther laying curled up against T'Challa's side as she sleeps while the two of them play video games. Steve can't hear which game exactly but he can hear the generic video game punching noise every few seconds so it's probably a fighting game.

Natasha, Clint, and Bucky announce their departure only a minute after they've helped bring in everything from outside. Steve follows Sam to the front door to say goodbye to them, holding a hand out to pet Lucky when he comes running eagerly after them.

“Thanks for letting me crash your barbecue,” Bucky says to Sam as he shakes his hand firmly.

Sam smiles at him and says, “Anytime, man. Glad to feed a man who can stomach some spice.”

“Only the right way to eat meat,” Bucky says with a crooked grin and both of them turn to give Steve a pointed look.

Steve looks from one to the other, then rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “You're both assholes and I hate you.”

Clint throws his arms around Sam and hugs him tightly as a goodbye, a similar hug being given to Steve and Steve returns it without hesitation and with a soft laugh when Clint squeaks as Steve squeezes him a little to tightly.

Natasha gives them both a friendly kiss on the cheek and when the two of them, along with Lucky, have gone outside to start the car, Bucky holds out his right hand to Steve with a smile that for once doesn't look faked or forced in any way. It rather looks soft and real.

“Steve,” he says and squeezes Steve's hand when he takes it. Steve tries very hard not to think about how strong and firm his handshake is and instead focuses on smiling back.

“Bucky,” Steve says and reluctantly lets go of Bucky's hand after counting to five in his head. “It was good seeing you again.”

“Right back at you,” Bucky says. With a final nod, he steps out of the house and hops into the car where Natasha and Clint are waiting for him.

Steve will deny it for the rest of his entire damn life but he can't help but look after the car with an almost wishful look in his eyes, his eyes locked onto Bucky sitting in the backseat and looking right back at him. He looks after the car for a second or two too long and when he turns his attention back inside, he finds Sam looking at him with a knowing grin on his lips.

“What?” Steve asks after a beat and ignores the flush that rises to his cheeks.

“I'm onto you, man,” Sam says and punches his shoulder lightly. “You're like an open book and I can't believe you didn't tell _me_ , your very own best friend, that you're into someone.”

Steve groans and rolls his eyes. “I'm not into him!”

Sam gives him a look, deadpan and disbelieving. He then shakes his head and walks away with a muttered, “Dumbass.”

“I'm not!” Steve yells after him, following him.

“Denial isn't cute, Steve!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a struggle to get uploaded because my internet hates me today :)) anyway...
> 
> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life! <3


	4. Chapter 4

One thing that Steve hates doing is dropping Cassidy off at school. Not because the school is bad – it's actually one of the best schools in the city and all the teachers are good and kind and keeps Steve and the rest of the parents in the loop about everything – and not because Cassidy doesn't want to go. No, she's always ecstatic about going because she gets to see Ayanna and the rest of her friends.

No, that's not it. He hates dropping her off at school because it means having to deal with his own shit, having to entertain himself, and not seeing his daughter for several hours. It means missing her so much that his heart aches.

It sounds pathetic but, well, he's a father and his daughter is everything to him.

It has gotten easier with time. Steve used to almost refuse to let go of her, used to sit parked in his car in the school's parking lot for way too long. He used to sit in Cassidy's room just to feel close to her because that's how pathetic he was.

It has gotten easier but Steve still hates it. He loves watching her sprint into the building after giving him a quick hug, loves how happy she is about learning and going to school, and he'll always encourage that. But he hates not getting to see his little girl for hours.

When he gets home after having dropped her off at school on this cloudy Monday, the house is empty and deafeningly quiet. So quiet that even when he carefully drops his keys onto the kitchen counter, it sounds loud.

It's not loud, of course. It's just a noise in a quiet place and he's being over-dramatic. A pin falling on the floor in the other end of the house would still be categorized as loud in his mind when the house is as empty as it is with just him there.

For a while, Steve considered getting a dog or a cat or some kind of pet to liven up the place a little and to keep him company when Cassidy wasn't there. Sometimes he still catches himself thinking about it, considering it, but then he sees the mess in the house and thinks back on how much worse it used to be when Cassidy was younger and that quickly changes his mind.

Speaking of a mess...

Steve looks around and from where he's standing by the kitchen island, he can spot at least a handful of Cassidy's toys. With a sigh and after rubbing a hand over his face and deciding to schedule his nap for later, he starts cleaning.

And if it's just his way of procrastinating doing actual work, then that's his business.

♜

Noon arrives and Steve has yet to do a single line of work. Not his fault. After cleaning the house and making it completely spotless, he laid down on the couch and put on a movie and he just happened to fall asleep... for over an hour.

A groan leaves him the moment he opens his eyes to sunlight shining brightly in through the living room window and right into his face. He throws an arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the daylight, only to groan again when his phone buzzes on the coffee table.

After much whining and groaning and telling himself to act like the responsible adult he is, Steve pulls himself up to sit and stretches briefly before he reaches over to grab his phone. He's not even surprised at how long his nap turned out to be. He stopped being surprised by it a long time ago.

There's a text from Clint waiting for him. He scrubs the sleep out of his eyes and opens it.

> **[** 12:04 PM **] Clint** : yo how much do i gotta bribe u to buy me coffee ????

< **[** 12:07 PM **] Steve** : You have a coffee machine, Clint. Use it.

Steve pockets his phone and stands up, stretching once more until his back pops. He rolls the cricks out of his shoulders and neck and heads toward the bathroom to at least wash his face a little and take a dump before he goes anywhere or does anything.

His phone buzzes in his pocket just as he turns the light on in the bathroom. There are no words, just a picture and Steve can't help but roll his eyes exasperatedly and let out a heavy sigh at the sight he's met with when he opens it.

The picture is of a broken coffee pot, the pieces scattered across a hardwood floor that Steve knows is the floor in Clint's apartment. Typical.

< **[** 12:11 PM **] Steve** : Meet me at the grocery store. I'll buy you coffee after.

> **[** 12:12 PM **] Clint** : ur my favorite <3

♜

Clint is already waiting by the grocery store's main entrance by the time Steve arrives, Lucky sitting obediently by his side with his vest and leash on. He looks like he's just rolled out of bed which, knowing Clint, probably is the case. That guy spends more time in bed than Steve thought was possible for a grown man.

But, knowing himself, Steve can't let himself judge for more than a second. After all, Clint's text did wake him up from a middle of the day nap so who was he to judge Clint for sleeping more than a toddler? They're both equally a mess.

Steve parks the car on one of the many available spots in the lot. He's barely gotten a foot out of the car before he sees Lucky spotting him and he watches as the dog starts wagging his tail and nudging Clint to get him to notice as well.

Clint turns and the moment their eyes lock from across the parking lot, his free hand flies up into the air while a wide and toothy smile grows onto his lips. With a chuckle passing him in a small huff, Steve lifts his hand to wave back and doesn't bother fighting the smile that tugs at his lips.

“Hey, man,” Steve says and opens his arms in a silent invitation once he's over by him.

“Hey, bro,” Clint greets back and leans in to give him a hug. They only hug for a moment because then Clint leans back and asks, “How's my favorite friend doing?”

Steve gives him a look. “I already promised to buy you coffee, Clint,” he says. “You don't gotta kiss my ass.”

“But your ass is so nice though,” Clint says. He pauses for a beat. “And maybe I'm trying to get you to buy me some frozen pizzas too.”

“Clint,” Steve groans and looks heavenward.

“I know, I know!” Clint holds up his hands and gestures to the store. “But we're already here, so why not?”

“Because you have your own money.”

“Okay but consider this: I forgot my wallet.” At least Clint has the decency to look guilty.

Steve lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “You're impossible,” he tells him. He thinks about it for a minute but eventually Clint's (and Lucky's because the bastard is a traitor) begging eyes win him over. “Fine, I'll buy you some fucking frozen pizzas.”

Clint beams at him and Lucky wags his tail happily.

“But,” Steve says and holds up a stern finger, “you're buying coffee next time.”

Clint salutes him. “Yes, sir.”

They get done grocery shopping within the hour, which is an improvement from the last time Clint tagged along. Last time it took them nearly two hours because Clint is almost worse than a child and absolutely has to have the most useless things.

“For arrows,” he says but Steve doesn't wanna know.

Grocery bags loaded in the trunk, Steve gets into the driver's seat while Clint hops into the passenger's seat and Lucky gets put in the back. Steve immediately turns off the music that starts to play the moment he turns on the car. Clint can't hear it, he knows that, but he can and he does it out of habit.

The ride to the nearest coffee shop is fairly short considering the almost stupid amount of them scattered across the city. During the whole ride, Clint is leaned lazily back in his seat despite Steve telling him to sit up properly and they mostly talk about Clint's residents because that's what they always do; Clint complaining and reconsidering his employment as a landlord and Steve letting him.

The coffee shop is nearly empty when they step inside. There's only a handful of people spread out by their own tables; a girl with her laptop open in front of her and green headphones blocking out everything and everyone, a guy absently stirring his coffee while scrolling through his phone, and an elderly couple talking quietly to each other.

It's nice.

“Okay, what do you want?” Steve asks as they make their way to the front counter where a young girl is already smiling brightly at them. He makes sure to lift his hands and sign as he speaks now that his hands are no longer occupied.

“The usual,” Clint answers and rolls Lucky's leash around his fist to keep him close.

“Really?” Steve gives him a look. “You don't even want a little bit of milk? Or sugar?”

Clint purses his lips in thoughts. “Okay, I'll take both of those. Oh! And a croissant.”

“I only offered to pay for the coffee,” Steve reminds him and Clint pouts at him.

“Hi!” the girl behind the counter greets them once they're there. _Hailey_ is written on her name tag that's clipped to her apron. “What can I get you?”

“One coffee, black with milk and sugar, and one, uh, iced coffee, please,” Steve says and fishes his wallet out from his back pocket.

“To go or are you drinking here?” Hailey asks.

“To go, thank you.”

“And who do I make it out to?”

“Steve, please.”

“Okay, take a seat and your drinks will be ready in a minute,” Hailey says with a smile.

Steve gives her a polite nod and turns to follow Clint who's already on his way over to an empty table to wait. Only, he finds himself stopping when a thought suddenly pops into his head.

For days and days, Steve has been trying to find an excuse to see Bucky again. The barbecue at the Wilsons' was a great opportunity but it didn't really result in much. And Steve is determined to befriend this man.

Unless, of course, Bucky tells him to back off or shows no interest in being friends with him. But so far there have been no signs of that. Or none that he has picked up, at least.

But coffee. That's a good enough excuse to see someone again, right? It can just be a nice gesture or a thank you for repairing his car.

“Actually,” he says the second he makes up his mind and turns toward Hailey, sending her a smile. “Can I add another thing to my order?”

“Sure,” Hailey says. “What else can I get you?”

“Uh.” Steve pauses and looks up at the menu hanging above. What would Bucky like? He remembers him liking spice but that was meat and not coffee. He could always just ask Clint but, well, he doesn't feel like being teased to hell and back. He's just doing a friendly gesture, nothing more.

“What about a, uh, frappuccino with extra cream?” he says, sounding unsure even to his own ears.

“Sure,” Hailey says and smiles toothily at him. “Coming right up with the rest.”

“Thank you,” Steve says and steps back.

When he makes it to the table Clint has sat himself down at, Clint is giving him a look, his eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a thin line. Steve says nothing and just sits himself down, looking down at where Lucky is laying on the floor by Clint's side. He's purposely avoiding Clint's eyes.

“Did you just order another coffee?” Clint asks, breaking the ten second long tense silence.

Steve shrugs and ignores the blush that rises to his cheeks. “Yeah.”

“Why?” Clint asks slowly.

“No reason,” Steve says and looks away.

“Oh, there's a reason,” Clint says and leans forward. “Your face is a tomato.”

Steve lets out a sigh and finally meets Clint's eyes. “Fine,” he says. “I was thinking about stopping by Bucky's garage and give him a coffee. As a thank you for fixing my car, y'know.”

A wide grin spreads across Clint's face the second Bucky's name is brought up. Steve curses silently and glares in return.

“Oh my God,” Clint says, delighted. “You're totally into him!”

Steve groans. “I'm not into him! I'm just being friendly, that's it.”

“Nah, man.” Clint shakes his head and waggles his brows. “You want some of that d.”

Steve gives him a deadpan look. “What are you, twelve?”

“Yup,” Clint says and leans back in his seat with a laugh. “Holy shit, I can't believe Nat was right.”

Steve glares at him and says, “If you say a single word to her about this, I will punch you in the fucking face.”

“Steven!” Clint gasps and clutches his chest dramatically. “What would Cassidy say if she knew how violent you are?”

“Don't bring my daughter into this,” Steve says and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms.

Immediately, Clint's face falls and his eyes widen. “Oh no,” he whines. “Now you're giving me the dad face.”

Steve bites back the grin that threatens to form and only raises his brows pointedly.

Clint sighs and says, “Fine. I won't tell Nat that you wanna bone Bucky.”

“Thank you.”

There's a beat of silence between them, tension heavy.

“But you totally wanna bone him,” Clint mutters under his breath and waggles his brows again.

Steve gives him an annoyed look and ignores his warm cheeks.

Luckily for Clint though, before Steve can do anything but open his mouth in the start of a threat, their order is ready. Instead of threatening him verbally, Steve just points at him in a silent warning as he gets up from his seat and Clint mimes zipping his lips shut.

Steve doesn't trust the grin that follows the movement. He's already dreading the phone call he knows is coming when (not if, _when_ ) Clint tells Natasha. Silently, he makes a beat with himself that the secret will spill in an hour tops.

The second Steve hands him his coffee, Clint practically inhales the whole take-away cup noisily before letting out a loud moan while his eyelids flutter. It causes Hailey to raise a brow at him and Steve to bite back the laugh that threatens to spill.

“This is heaven in a cup,” Clint mutters, mostly to himself, and raises said cup to his lips to take a sip of the still hot coffee. This time, when he moans, it's not as loud.

Steve lets out a little chuckle and pokes his shoulder to get his attention. “You're being very loud and pornographic,” he signs to him.

Clint looks at him for a moment as he sips, then he shrugs and gives him a look, silently telling him, “So?”

With a roll of his eyes, Steve turns back to a slightly flushed looking Hailey and sends her an apologetic smile before he pays for their drinks. He very pointedly ignores Clint making happy noises and hums next to him.

They get back in Steve's car and Steve stacks his and Bucky's coffee cups on top of each other in the cup holder while Clint makes himself comfortable in the passenger's seat with his feet tugged under his thighs and coffee cup held up to his lips. Lucky is making himself comfortable in the backseat too.

The drive to Clint's building is mostly quiet. Clint can't seem to detach himself from the coffee for even a second, constantly sipping and making pleased noises every time. His hands are too full to sign, as are Steve's, so they sit in pleasant silence for most of it. Steve allows himself to turn on some music to fill the quiet but makes sure to keep the volume low enough so he can still hear Clint.

When they make it to the building and Steve has parked by the front, Clint holds out his fist and Steve bumps his own against it.

“Thanks for the coffee, bro,” Clint says as he opens the car door and hops out. He opens the backdoor for Lucky who jumps out and stretches.

“Anytime,” Steve says when Clint turns and looks at him.

“Don't make that promise,” Clint says with a grin and closes the door. “You'll run outta money with promises like that 'cause I will take you up on it. Often.”

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Get out of here, you shit,” he says. “Go do your job.”

Clint salutes him sloppily and turns to walk into the building, Lucky following. “Say hi to Bucky from me!” he calls over his shoulder.

Steve glares at the back of his head and bites back any lame insults that forms in his head. It would be useless to yell them out anyway. Clint isn't even looking at him, the bastard.

♜

The Commando Auto Repair is loud and full of noise when Steve finally makes it there, parking at the front. The sounds of heavy mechanical parts slamming together and music and talking voices are spilling out of the open garage doors. Steve can see several cars being worked on, some lifted up with someone standing underneath and some still on the ground with the hood popped open.

Steve leans back on his seat and scans the place for the man he's looking for while his right hand absently touches the coffee cups still stacked on each other. If Bucky isn't there then he's got no reason to go in after all.

But it doesn't take long before one of the guys under a lifted car takes a small step backwards and Steve spots the man he's looking for further inside working on an old and rusty looking motorcycle.

Bucky is crouched down, sitting in profile view. He's wearing a black tank top this time and he looks no less dirty and oily and greasy with sweat as he did the last time. Steve has to take in a deep breath and think about baseball stats for a second to get a hold of himself.

Steve flips the sun shade down and quickly looks himself in the mirror. He reaches up and carefully runs the tips of his fingers through his hair and–

He stops himself in the middle of the motion and makes a face at himself. What the fuck is he doing? He's there to be friendly, not to impress the guy.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Steve grabs the coffee he bought for Bucky and gets out of the car before he heads over to the entrance.

Gabriel and Jim are standing by the front counter when he steps inside, the two of them leaning against the counter and talking quietly between them. Steve doesn't make it more than a couple of steps into the garage before they both turn their attention toward him, their conversation coming to an abrupt halt, and he sends them a greeting smile.

It takes a second but no longer before recognition flickers across Jim's face and a smile breaks out onto his face.

“Hey!” he calls out over the noise of the place and walks over toward him with a stretched out hand. “Steve, right?”

“That's right,” Steve says with a nod and shakes his hand.

“You're back with car trouble again already?” Jim whistles. “Damn. Maybe you should find yourself a new car.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, my car's doing just fine,” he says and then hesitates for a second. He shoots a glance toward Bucky who's now crouched down with his back turned to them, head bopping slightly to the beat of the music playing over the speakers.

God, he's gorgeous. Those back muscles...

Steve clears his throat and looks back at Jim, hoping the heat in his cheeks is his mere imagination. “I'm actually here to see Bucky,” he says.

Jim gives him a brief but calculating look before he smiles almost knowingly and nods. He turns and makes eye contact with Gabriel before making a gesture with his hand. A moment later, the music is turned down significantly.

“Hey, Barnes!” Jim calls out, his hands cupped around his mouth.

Steve watches as Bucky stops working and looks over his shoulder. He can't see his face properly, not with this much distance between them, but he can almost feel the glare that's being send in their direction. The glare is short lived though, soon fading away as Bucky stands up and fully turns around in one, graceful movement.

“You got a visitor!” Jim calls then drops his hands and puts one of them on Steve's shoulder. When he speaks again, there's a smile on his lips and he's no longer yelling. “Good seeing you again.”

“You too,” Steve says and offers him a smile before he lets his attention get pulled toward Bucky like a magnet.

Bucky is wiping his right hand with a dirty rag that is laid out in his prosthetic left and the closer he gets, the more obvious his smile is. It's small and barely there on his lips but his eyes shine with it. The corners of his lips are just barely hinting at it while his eyes blow it up like a damn star.

And the closer he gets, the more Steve has to think about baseball stats and other horrible, boner killing things. How can one man make dirty and sweaty and gross look so good? Steve hates him a little bit and keeps telling himself that this is purely a friendly visit and nothing else.

He's not into him. He's not.

(He totally is, damn it.)

“Please don't tell me your car broke down again already,” Bucky says and comes to an abrupt halt with a few steps between them. It takes a second but then the smile finally grows on his lips.

“Nah,” Steve says. His own smile is involuntary but not unwelcome. “It's still running smoothly, thanks to you.”

“Good,” Bucky says and shoves the dirty rag into his back pocket. “I would've had to hand in my mechanic license if I had missed something to fix.”

Steve's smile slips ever so slightly. “Wait, really?”

Bucky gives him a look, then rolls his eyes. “No, dumbass,” he says with a huff. “I would've just gotten in trouble with the boss and beaten myself up for giving you more trouble to deal with.”

“Oh,” Steve says and can't help the laugh that escapes him when Bucky grins at him.

“So,” Bucky continues and slides his hands into his pockets. “What brings you here?”

Taking in a deep breath and ignoring his pounding heart, Steve lifts up the take-away cup and smiles at him, hoping it doesn't come off as as nervous as he feels.

“Brought you coffee,” he says. “Y'know, as a proper thank you for saving my car.”

Bucky looks at him in silence for a moment. Then a smile spreads onto his lips, soft and sweet, and he looks genuinely touched as he reaches up with his left hand to take the coffee from Steve's hand. Steve doesn't even notice the smudge of oil the mechanical fingers spread onto his when they touch, too busy looking at the soft expression on Bucky's face.

“Aw, ain't that sweet,” Bucky says and brings the coffee cup up to his nose, inhaling. “Do you get coffee for all your mechanics?”

“Nah,” Steve says. “Only the best ones.”

Bucky's eyes flicker up to lock with Steve's. The tension that hangs over them is heavy, filled with electricity, and Steve dares to glance down at Bucky's lips for only a split second when Bucky bites down into his bottom one in a failed attempt at stopping the smile that grows.

Okay. So maybe Steve is a little bit interested.

“Well,” Bucky says and ducks his head a little. Maybe Steve is just seeing things but it looks like there's a faint blush painting Bucky's cheeks a pretty pink. “I appreciate it so thank you. It's real sweet of you.”

Steve hums and says, “Maybe hold your praises until after you've tasted it.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him, looking at him with suspicion. “You saying you spat in my coffee, Steve?” he asks, his tone teasing.

Steve shrugs and says nothing; just puts on an innocent expression and smiles.

Bucky eyes him for another moment before he lifts the cup up and takes a careful sip. Steve watches him carefully as he licks his lips, smacks them, and then takes another, longer sip. A beat passes, then Bucky lets out a please noise and gives a quick bop of his head.

“'s good,” he says. “If you spat in it, your spit is delicious.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs, clutching at his chest. “Well, I'm glad,” he says once he's calmed down. He smiles at Bucky and Bucky smiles back, and Steve knows that the pink color on his cheeks isn't something he's imagining this time.

“For the record,” Steve continues, “I didn't do anything to your coffee. Except for pay for it.”

Bucky's smile grows a little wider, a little softer, and he looks down at his cup as he raises it and takes a sip. When he looks back at Steve, his expression changes in an instant. The soft smile drops from his lips, his brows draw together in a furrow, and his eyes narrow into a glare.

Steve feels himself go tense. But it's only for a second because then he notices that Bucky's glare isn't directed at him. It's directed somewhere behind him. Curious, Steve turns and looks over his shoulder.

Behind him by the counter, Gabriel is looking intently down at a pile of papers while Jim is shuffling things around on the counter with a thoughtful look on his face.

Even Steve, as oblivious as he is, can see that they're doing their best at acting normal. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that they were obviously teasing Bucky behind Steve's back.

Steve has to bite back a grin and when he turns back to Bucky, he raises a questioning brow.

Bucky's eyes shoot back to him and his face softens a little, the glare fading. “They're assholes,” he says as an explanation, lifting his right shoulder in a half shrug. “Better to just ignore them.”

“Or glare daggers at them, apparently,” Steve says teasingly.

“Hey, if it works, it works,” Bucky says with another shrug and takes a sip of his coffee.

Steve lets out a laugh and feels compelled to reach out and touch Bucky's arms. But he manages to stop himself before his hand can do more than twitch in urge. He opens his mouth to say something more, wants to talk with Bucky for hours and hours because it's surprisingly easy and nice, but he catches sight of the time when he spots the clock hanging on the far left wall.

“Shit,” he lets out in a breath. He gives Bucky an apologetic smile and says, “Sorry, I gotta run. Gotta pick up Cassie from school.”

Bucky nods and says, “Yeah, of course. Don't let me hold you back from doing your parental duties.”

“I should let you get back to work anyway,” Steve says and smiles crookedly.

“Hey, good looking guy brings me coffee in the middle of the day? No better reason to stop working.”

Steve blinks owlishly, not sure he heard him right. But then he sees the small grin on Bucky's lips and the glint in his eyes and the slight pink dusting his cheekbones, and Steve knows he heard him right.

Smiling bashfully, Steve dips his chin and doesn't bother trying to will down the blush that rises to his cheeks at an alarming speed. He lets out a small puff of air in the form of a chuckle before he lifts his head and looks at Bucky.

Bucky has a smile on his lips and his face is soft. It makes Steve's knees feel a little bit like jelly.

“Good looking, huh?” Steve asks teasingly, hoping his heart isn't as loud to Bucky as it is to him.

Bucky gives him a flat look that somehow doesn't ruin his soft expression. “I'm not blind, Steve,” he says. “I've got eyes, I'm very gay, and I know a good looking guy when I see one.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “Alright, well, I'll leave and stop distracting you then.”

“You do that,” Bucky says. “You're very distracting, ya know. Wouldn't get any work done with all of,” he pauses for a beat, sucking in a breath as he gestures to Steve, “this near me.”

Steve scoffs, although it sounds more like a chuckle, and lightly shoves Bucky. He wants to ignore how firm his chest is under his palm but instead he ends up storing it away for later.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says, unable to keep himself from laughing more when Bucky does.

“I wanna tell you to make me,” Bucky says and grins as his brows waggles momentarily, “but I really gotta get back to work and you really do need to go pick up that awesome daughter of yours, so get out.”

Steve nods and after letting himself give Bucky a linger look, he steps back. “See you 'round, Buck,” he says and offers him a smile.

“Bye, Steve,” Bucky says and lifts up the coffee cup still tugged into his prosthetic hand. “Thanks for the coffee!”

“Anytime!” Steve calls back. He lifts his hand briefly in a silent goodbye before he turns and heads back out of the garage.

On his way out, he nods his goodbye at Jim and Gabriel who are both still pretending to not be eavesdropping and acting as a peanut gallery. They're fooling absolutely no one and Steve can't help but roll his eyes at them just a little bit.

He gets in his car and just as he's pulling back out on the road, he glances back into the garage. His eyes easily find Bucky now standing back by the motorcycle he was working on earlier, coffee cup held up to his face. Steve can't see it but there's a soft smile on Bucky's lips.

Steve can't help but smile and tells himself that the flutter in his heart is nothing.

♜

Steve has barely put his car in park by the front of Cassidy's school before he spots a few familiar faces off in the distance.

Cassidy and Ayanna are standing to the side of the front doors, out of the way of the leaving students. They're facing each other, clapping their hands together in their own form of patty cake (or maybe it's their secret handshake, Steve isn't really sure) and with bright and toothy smiles on their faces.

Next to them stands Sam, a fond smile on his lips and Ayanna's backpack in his hand while the other is buried in the pocket of his jeans. Steve has only just gotten himself out of his seat belt when Sam's attention moves from the girls to him and they both raise a hand in greeting at the same time just as Steve moves to get out of the car.

He can't hear the words said but he can see Sam's lips moving as he bends down nor can he hear but he can see Cassidy suddenly brighten even more and whirl around to look at him. His heart warms instantly and he melts a little (a lot) when Cassidy takes off and comes sprinting toward him. Steve crouches down and spreads his arms out in an open invitation.

“Daddy!” Cassidy yells and throws herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

Steve picks her up easily as he stands, wrapping both his arms around her and hugging her back. “Hey, sweetie,” he says and kisses the side of her head, his fond and soft smile permanently stuck to his lips.

When he opens his eyes and when Cassidy leans back a little, Steve sees Sam and Ayanna come walking hand in hand toward them. Sam is smiling softly and Ayanna is swinging her dad's hand absently.

“Dad, dad!” Cassidy says and slaps his shoulder to get his attention. Her smile is still wide and toothy, the gap where there used to be a tooth ridiculous and so cute that Steve has to stifle his chuckle.

“Cassie,” Steve says and looks at her.

“Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?” Cassidy asks, her grin growing wider. Ayanna is doing a poor job at stifling her own laughter despite having covered her mouth with the hand that isn't clasped in Sam's.

“I didn't,” Steve tells Cassidy, sharing a quick look with Sam. “What's this about a restaurant on the moon?”

“Well, the food is good,” Cassidy tells him. “But there's no atmosphere.”

Steve blinks at her then snorts and rolls his eyes while Cassidy and Ayanna both break out laughing hysterically.

“They've been doing that since I found them,” Sam says with a fond shake of his head.

“Let me guess,” Steve says and adjusts his hold on Cassidy a little. “Only one joke?”

“Oh no, they've got a whole two jokes,” Sam says.

“What's faster; cold or hot?” Ayanna barely manages to ask around her laughter.

“I don't know,” Steve says after a beat.

“Hot!” Cassidy laughs.

“Because you can catch a cold!” Ayanna finishes, laughing too.

Steve looks at Sam and Sam looks back, a similar expression on their faces; fond yet slightly exasperated. Well, Sam's is and Steve doesn't blame him if they've been saying the same two jokes over and over and over again for the past little while. Steve would be a little bit exasperated too.

“Alright, you comedians,” Steve says, raising his voice slightly above their laughter, and bends down to put Cassidy on the ground. “Time to head home.”

He grabs onto Cassidy's hand when she snakes it into his and gives it a squeeze. He shares a quick smile with Sam before they both head toward their respective cars, Ayanna following her dad and waving at Cassidy who is waving back happily.

Steve has only just gotten Cassidy into the car after putting her backpack in the trunk when Sam suddenly calls out, “Oh, I've got one! Why wouldn't the crab share his sweets?”

Steve gives him a look but Sam just grins back.

“Why wouldn't the crab share his sweets?” Cassidy repeats and sticks her head back out of the car to look at him.

“Because he was a little shellfish,” Sam says, his grin only growing wider when Steve rolls his eyes.

Ayanna's laughter is loud where it comes from inside of Sam's car. Cassidy's is just as loud, a little louder for Steve since she's right next to his ear. Steve decides he can live with being partially deaf if he gets to see the look of pure delight on Cassidy's face more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life. <3


	5. Chapter 5

The door has barely closed behind Steve before Cassidy is out of her shoes and jacket and is sprinting up the stairs to Ayanna's room, not even bothering to yell goodbye over her shoulder or say hi to anyone.

Steve blinks as she disappears at the top of the stairs. “Bye, Cassie!” he calls out after a good handful of seconds of just staring. His brows are raised and a small, amused smile is curling at the corner of his lips.

No reply comes for a long while so Steve rolls his eyes and turns to give Sam a look. But then there are running footsteps and before he knows it, he's got a seven year old crashing into him, throwing her arms around his middle, and smashing her face into his stomach. Steve smiles down at her after recovering from the blow and hugs her back.

“Bye, dad,” Cassidy says into his stomach. She squeezes him briefly then whirls around and sprints back toward the stairs.

“Do I not even get a hi?” Sam calls out after her.

Cassidy quickly turns and runs right back, throwing herself at Sam in a quick hug. When she's released again, she's up the stairs in the blink of an eye. Steve only just catches sight of Ayanna standing by the railing on the second floor, grinning widely down at them. He doesn't get to even wave at her before Cassidy grabs her hand and the two of them disappear down the hall.

Steve sighs and wonders out loud, “How do they have so much energy?”

“Beats me,” Sam says with a shrug. “Makes it easier to get them to sleep at night though.”

“True,” Steve says in a mumble. With a small shake of his head, he looks away from the upstairs and looks around instead. He can see Adwin sitting by the dinner table in the kitchen, hunched over what looks like homework with his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, one hand wrapped around a pen, and the other holding his head up.

He can see Panther quietly walking along the windowsill, elegantly moving around the succulents sitting in pots along it. Who he can't see, however, is T'Challa.

“T'Challa not home or?” Steve asks, his eyes returning to Sam.

“Phone meeting,” Sam explains and gestures to the closed doors that lead into the living room. “Being CEO is hard work, man. All day, every day.”

Steve narrows his eyes a little and gives Sam a calculating look. “Too much work?”

“Sometimes,” Sam says and shrugs. “But he's getting better at cutting back. Shuri's helping too now.”

“Good,” Steve says and reaches out to grab onto Sam's shoulder. “Don't let him forget to treat you right or I'll come punch his shit in.”

Sam gives him a look but not even that can hide the smile that forms on his lips. “That threat didn't work thirteen years ago, it's not gonna work now,” he says.

“How would you know?” Steve asks and gives him a look back. “You weren't there when I gave him the shovel talk.”

“You were still a skinny twig when you gave him that speech, that's how I know.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I was putting on muscles, shut up.”

“And besides, we're good,” Sam continues, ignoring him and grinning widely. “ _Real_ good. The spark is still very much alive.”

Steve makes a face at him and holds up both hands. “Please don't elaborate. I don't wanna hear it.”

“Oh, you don't wanna hear it? Not even how he fucked me so good I saw actual stars?”

“What the fuck did I just say, Sam?”

Sam ignores him. “Or how I sucked his–”

“Okay, I'm leaving!” Steve says loudly and covers both his ears quickly while backing toward the door. “Bye!”

Sam laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, I'll stop,” he says and steps forward, following him to the door. “And you know you're welcome to stay, right?”

Steve lowers his hands from his ears and smiles at him. He glances briefly toward the stairs and strains his ears. Distantly, he can hear Cassidy and Ayanna talking and giggling to themselves and, even after a good seven years, it still warms his heart that they're so close.

“I know,” he says and looks back at Sam. “But I don't want her to think she can't go anywhere without me.”

Sam hums and nods. “Yeah, I get that. But you are coming back for dinner, right? Don't make me make extra food and then not even show up.”

“Don't worry,” Steve says with a chuckle. He zips up his jacket and twists the door knob, opening the door. “I'll come eat you out of the fucking house if you want me to. I never pass on free food, you know that.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Sam says with a roll of his eyes. “I figured that out in college when you ate all my food.”

“Hey, you offered,” Steve defends and takes a step out of the house.

“Once,” Sam says and holds up a finger. “I offered once because your skinny ass needed some meat on your bones. And you just kept eating my food even when I didn't offer.”

“It's rude not to share your food with your best friend, Sam.”

“No, it's rude to steal your best friend's food.”

“Is it though?”

Sam gives him a deadpan look. “Yes, Steve, it is.”

“And yet you keep making me food so why 're you complaining?”

Sam opens his mouth, probably to argue, but it slams shut a moment later. Steve gives him a pointed look and grins widely at him.

“Fine, whatever.” Sam rolls his eyes and grabs the door. “Now get out and go bother Nat and Clint instead. I'm done dealing with your ass.”

Steve salutes lazily and says, “Yes, sir!”

“You hang out with Clint too much!” Sam tells him as he closes the door.

“No such thing as too much!” Steve calls back even though the door closes halfway through his sentence. He snorts and rolls his eyes when he sees Sam's hand appear in the window beside the door, middle finger flipped up.

♜

Steve stares at the sign and the sign stares back.

The sign is a piece of crumbled paper that someone has attempted to smooth out, the words _out of order_ written in messy, blocky letters not quite in the center of it and in Clint's handwriting. It's hastily taped to the closed elevator doors, hanging a bit crookedly like Clint didn't even bother.

Steve sighs, his shoulders sag, and the sign flaps briefly as his breath passes it.

He's not particularly out of shape, not anymore, and taking the stairs would be no trouble for him. But, well, he's getting older and he finds himself getting more and more lazy as the years tick by. Taking the stairs feels like such a hardship but of course Clint's elevator is out of order because when isn't it?

Luckily for him, Clint doesn't live on the top floor and Steve only has to take a few flights of stairs before he makes it to apartment H where he lives. On his way up, he passes by Aimee carrying her bike down the stairs. He smiles at her in greeting and steps out of the way. She smiles back and hurries by with a quick greeting shouted over her shoulder.

When he makes it to the right apartment door, Steve knocks on the door and waits. He hears Lucky bark behind the wood, hears the unmistakable sound of claws clacking against the floor as the dog trots to and from the door. And then, after waiting barely a minute, the door flies open.

“Dude!” Clint says around a mouthful of pizza, the half eaten slice held in his hand. His other hand is empty once he lets go of the door and he holds up a finger as he quickly chews and swallows. “Dude,” he repeats. “If you'd gotten here five minutes later, there wouldn't have been any pizza left for you.”

“You didn't even wait for me?” Steve asks and steps inside, shrugging out of his jacket. “Rude.”

“Pizza waits for no man,” Clint says before shoving a huge bite into his mouth.

Steve rolls his eyes at him. He calls him gross with a quick movement of his hand before he crouches down to properly greet Lucky who's waiting patiently with his ears perked excitedly and his tail wagging.

Lucky licks at his chin and moves in between his spread out arms. Steve chuckles and gives him a proper round of pets, then stands back up with a quiet groan.

“Nat awake yet?” he asks. He immediately follows it with, “Never mind,” when his eyes land on Natasha laying stretched out on the couch further into the apartment only a second later.

She's wearing a shirt that's at least a few sizes too big (Clint's, no doubt) and pajama pants and her hair is put up into a messy ponytail. She looks slightly annoyed which Steve knows is her being not completely awake yet. It's just past noon and she was on night shift the night before so Steve doesn't blame her for being a little grumpy.

“Morning, Nat,” Steve says and smiles as he steps over to her. He bends down and presses a quick kiss to her forehead, snorting when she grunts in response.

“Morning,” Natasha responds in a mutter. With a sigh, she sits up and stretches before waving a hand. “Lucky, fetch me Clint.”

Lucky moves immediately, trotting over toward the kitchen area where Clint is rummaging through the cabinets, the crust of his pizza hanging from his mouth. Steve keeps his eyes on them and sits down on the couch, carefully avoiding Natasha's socked feet.

Clint comes jogging over toward them after Lucky has nudged him and he throws himself onto the other side of the couch. He's barely leaned back against the back and the armrest before Natasha falls backwards onto him, snuggling into his side and resting her head on his chest.

“Get crumbs in my hair and I'll slit your throat,” Natasha says as she makes herself comfortable. She nudges Steve's thigh and says, “Tell him, Steve.”

“What am I, your personal translator?” Steve asks her while he pokes at Clint to get his attention.

“Yes,” Natasha answers easily.

“You're the worst,” Steve says and signs, “Natasha says she loves you,” to Clint.

Clint immediately smiles widely and wraps both arms around Natasha, kissing the side of her head. “Aww, Nat. I love you too.”

Natasha elbows Clint. Not that it seems to bother Clint in the slightest. She doesn't seem all that annoyed either, staying leaned into him with her eyes nearly closed and looking more and more relaxed while Clint hugs her close.

Steve smiles at them and puts his hand on Lucky's head when he places it in his lap.

It takes about half an hour before Natasha is more awake. She blames it on Clint being too comfortable and Steve can't help but roll his eyes at her when she doesn't move away from her boyfriend despite her complaint.

It takes her half an hour to fully wake up which means half an hour of peaceful pizza eating, dog petting, and not having to say a word while Steve and Clint watch whatever's playing on the television. Some animal program that Lucky seems very interested in from where he's laying by Steve's feet.

It's a nice half an hour. Steve wishes it was longer the second Natasha opens her mouth.

“So,” she starts. Steve knows, just from the tone in her voice and from the fact that she mutes the television, that this is going to be the start of a conversation he's going to hate. “Clint tells me you bought Bucky coffee.”

Yep. There it is. He already hates it.

Steve takes in a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh. Slowly, he turns his head and looks at Clint. His eyes narrow into a glare and his jaw clenches when he sees Clint looking back at him, smiling nervously with guilt written all over his face.

Fucking bastard.

“I did,” Steve says with another sigh. “Yeah.”

Clint's guilty expression washes away at the same time a wide grin spreads across Natasha's lips. They're both looking at him, both with knowing looks in their eyes. Clint starts waggling his brows suggestively at him.

Steve resists the urge to punch him. Barely.

“I hate you both,” he tells them and lifts a finger to point at Clint. “You especially.”

“Aww, Steve,” Clint whines and pouts.

“Oh please,” Natasha snorts. “I introduced you to your future husband. How could you possibly hate me?”

Steve stares at her. “Very easily.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and says, “Stop acting like a child and admit you're into him.”

Steve lets out a heavy sigh and sags against the back of the couch, slumping down. “Fine,” he says after a moment's hesitation. “Maybe I'm a little into him.”

Natasha and Clint high five.

“But,” Steve continues immediately, “I really was just trying to be friendly with the coffee.”

“Sure, buddy,” Clint says. “And my hearing is superb.”

“I mean it,” Steve says and sends Clint a warning look. “I'm just trying to be friends with him. Yes, I'm ridiculously attracted to him but that doesn't mean I'm suddenly ready to start dating again.”

“Ever?” Natasha asks carefully.

Steve pauses for a moment then shrugs. “I don't know. Maybe.”

“Steve–”

“I know,” Steve interrupts before she can continue. “I know it's been forever and a day since Peggy but,” he sighs, “I don't know. Why does it matter whether I wanna ask Bucky out or not anyway?”

Natasha looks at him, a soft expression on her face. “We just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah, bro,” Clint says.

“I am happy,” Steve says.

Natasha gives him a pointed look.

“I am,” he insists. “Really. A little lonely sometimes, maybe, but I swear I'm happy. I mean, I've got Cassie. How can I not be happy?”

Natasha smiles at him, soft and maybe a little sad. “It's not the same and you know that. I'm sure she's noticed it too.”

Steve looks at her for a long, silent moment before he looks down at his feet. Truth to be told, Cassidy probably has noticed that he's a little... sad sometimes. She often hugs him tightly and pulls at the corners of his lips to make him smile. He's never really thought much of it, has always assumed it's just something she does.

But if he really thinks about it, she probably knows. He's not surprised, to be honest. Cassidy is smart and observant. Of course she would notice that he's not entirely happy. She makes him happy, of course she does. She's his daughter, the brightest light in his life, and she will always bring him happiness.

But sometimes he feels like there's something missing. Like there's a corner of his heart still painfully empty, waiting for someone to fill it.

“What if it goes wrong?” Steve asks after a long minute of silence. “Or if it doesn't work out?”

“Then you would have at least tried,” Natasha says.

“You wanna know what I think?” Clint asks and continues before anyone can answer. “I think you should take it slow. Dip your feet in a little, test the waters. And when you're ready, dive in and ask him out.”

“Or I could just aim for friendship,” Steve mutters, mostly to himself.

“What?” Clint squints his eyes at him. “Dude, you know I can't read your lips when you do that.”

“Nothing,” Steve says and shakes his head a little. “I didn't say anything.”

“Steve,” Natasha says and just from the look she's giving him alone, he knows she heard him. “You can aim for friendship if you want to but if you feel like there's something more than platonic feelings at any point, promise me you'll go for it. Don't turn this into a pining fest that will only end up hurting you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve says and waves a hand dismissively. He leans forward and grabs the playstation controller laying on the table. “Now, who wants to play TowerFall?”

He can feel Natasha giving him an exasperated and probably annoyed look but he pointedly ignores it. Meanwhile, Clint shoots forward with an exclaimed, “Me!” and grabs one of the controllers from the floor.

For the rest of the time he's there, Steve does everything in his power to avoid the subject of his love life. Anytime Natasha is about to bring it up, he dodges and swerves and runs away.

Is he a coward? Yes. Most definitely.

Just as he's about to leave to go have dinner at the Wilsons' though, Natasha corners him and shoves a piece of paper into his hand while giving him a stern look.

“Do yourself a favor and use this,” she tells him. “Do not make me have to use force.”

When Steve opens his hand and looks at the paper, he finds a phone number staring back at him. It's written underneath Bucky's name. Steve ignores the flutter in his heart and shoves it into his pocket.

♜

The second Steve is through the door, Cassidy jumps and clings onto him for a solid minute before Ayanna joins her and suddenly Steve has two seven year olds clinging to him like a couple of koalas. He chuckles and hugs them back but soon has to wrestle them off because his back starts to ache a little too painfully.

Luckily for him, Adwin is much more considerate of his back and only comes by to bump fists before he goes right into the kitchen where Sam is cooking dinner for the six of them. Steve calls out his greeting and Sam shouts back while T'Challa comes over and greets him properly, apparently done with phone meetings for the night.

Dinner goes by without a hitch. The kids eat their greens with only a little bit of protesting and complaining and whining which is nothing unusual because they always do. When their plates are empty and there's only a little bit of leftovers, Cassidy and Ayanna go back upstairs with visibly less energy than this morning and Adwin goes to the living room to play video games.

Steve stays seated by the table with Sam and T'Challa, none of them in a rush to get up. It's not just Cassidy and Ayanna who are getting tired. Sam is hiding a yawn behind his hand and T'Challa looks exhausted.

Steve feels bad for making them look after all three kids for hours but that feeling immediately goes away when Sam opens his mouth.

“You know how Clint is a giant gossip?” Sam asks apropos of nothing.

Steve sighs deeply and hangs his head. “Please don't tell me he told you too,” he says and closes his eyes tightly.

“If it's any consolation,” T'Challa says, “he did not tell me.”

“No, but I did,” Sam says, not sounding sorry in any way.

Steve groans and drops his head onto the table. “How the fuck did this become the one thing we talk about these days?” he whines against the wood.

“By being the most exciting thing going on 'cause we live in a rom-com, apparently,” Sam says with a shrug and leans back in his seat, casually draping an arm around the back of T'Challa's chair.

Steve lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. He stays still and silent for a moment, wishing for the floor to swallow him up and take him somewhere far away. But when that doesn't happen and he stays in the kitchen with nowhere to run and hide, he lifts his head off the table and sits back up.

“It's not a fucking rom-com,” he says and gives them both a look.

Sam quirks a brow at him. “Single dad meets guy who he's got great, almost natural, chemistry with and who he's obviously very attracted to. Guy gets along with single dad's kid pretty damn well. Single dad can't stop thinking about guy. Should I go on?”

“Sounds like a rom-com to me,” T'Challa says.

Steve stares deadpan at the two for a minute then rolls his eyes and groans.

Okay, so maybe they have a point but he's not going to give them the satisfaction of agreeing with them. They don't need to feel any more smug than they already do, thank you very much.

“First things first though,” Sam says. His tone is suddenly seriously, all teasing gone. “Have you talked to Cassidy about potentially dating?”

Steve shakes his head. “No. It's not something that'll be relevant for a while. Or ever.”

Sam gives him an unconvinced and almost stern look. “Don't bullshit me, Steve. You gotta talk to her about this.”

“I'm just being friendly,” Steve says, not even convincing himself. “Nothing more.”

“I've known you since you were skinny and short and got in fights every damn day of the week,” Sam says. “I know when you're just being friendly and this is not it.”

Steve pauses. He looks from Sam to T'Challa and back a couple of times. They both hold the same kind of expression; knowing and annoyingly soft. He doesn't want to admit it to more people. It's bad enough that Natasha and Clint managed to drag a confession out of him.

But, well, it's only a matter of time before these two get it out of him too, he supposes.

“Okay,” he says with a sigh. “So maybe I'm a little interested.”

Sam smiles at him, like Steve being interested in someone is the best news of the week.

“So listen to Sam,” T'Challa says, swinging an arm around his husband, “and talk to your daughter.”

Steve looks at them, eyes narrowing slowly. “Y'know, I've always hated when you two gang up on me.”

Sam grins widely and brings his arm properly around T'Challa. “No, you don't,” he says. “You secretly love it.”

“I really don't,” Steve says and shakes his head.

“I think he's lying,” T'Challa stage whispers to Sam.

Steve rolls his eyes and groans while the two of them laugh.

♜

Steve manages to drag Cassidy home with him half an hour later after the teasing has stopped and the dinner table is cleared, dishes put in the washer and leftovers put in the fridge and Panther munching down her own dinner eagerly.

Cassidy is already falling asleep on the way home, slumping down in her seat and barely able to keep her eyes open. She's yawning and rubbing tiredly at her eyes every few minutes. Steve keeps glancing toward her in the back view mirror, half to make sure she stays upright and half because it's so goddamn cute.

The ride home is short and barely takes a few minutes, but Steve still picks her up and carries her inside once they're there. She whined wordlessly and wouldn't get out of the car at first so Steve gave in quickly. He doesn't mind it though. She's not really that heavy and it's nice when she leans into him, snuggling into his chest. She clings to him and Steve lets her, maneuvering her around in his arms to unlock the door.

Luckily, she's awake enough to get out of her clothes, although she does end up throwing every piece carelessly around the room, and into her pajamas. She very nearly goes straight for her bed but Steve grabs her and guides her to the bathroom where he manages to get her to brush her teeth. But the second that's done, she falls asleep the moment her head hits the pillow.

Steve rolls his eyes at the mess in her room but he smiles at the sound of her soft snoring. He tidies up a little, gathering her clothes and rolling them into a ball in his hands, before he goes over and tugs her in properly.

“Night, Cassie,” he whispers and kisses her head softly. “I love you.”

Cassidy responds in a sleepy murmur and shifts under her duvet, making her hair even more of a mess than it already is.

He's gonna have to deal with a bird's nest in the morning. He's already dreading it.

Steve leaves her to sleep, turning off the light in her room and pulling the door ajar to let the light in the hallway in. After tossing the clothes in the laundry basket, he heads to his own room, empties his pockets onto the nightstand, and strips out of his clothes. He throws himself on the bed, intending to go to sleep as well.

But he finds himself staring up at the ceiling, mind racing on an indecisive track. He lays there for a good five minutes before he turns and looks at the assortment of stuff on the nightstand.

Under his phone is the slip of paper with Bucky's number, half crumbled but still very readable. It's staring back at him, mocking him by catching some of the light from outside and lighting up like something out of a fucking rom-com.

Steve narrows his eyes at it. It stays perfectly still and keeps mocking him. With a sigh that quickly turns into a groan, he pulls himself up to sit and reaches out to grab both his phone and the slip of paper while quietly cursing Natasha under his breath.

He types in the number and spends a solid ten minutes constructing a message that isn't stupid or long or too desperate. When it's done and he's decently happy with it after deleting the smiley, he hits send before he can change his mind or back out.

< **[** 09:53 PM **] Steve** : Hey, it's Steve. Nat gave me your number. Hope you don't mind.

Steve stares down at his phone for the minutes it takes Bucky to respond. He's not desperate, he tells himself as he hurries to open the messages the moment they arrive. He really isn't.

> **[** 09:58 PM **] Bucky** : by give do you mean forcefully shove at you  
> **[** 09:58 PM **] Bucky** : cause i kinda asked her to

Slowly, Steve smiles down at his phone and decides to dip his toes in the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life. <3


	6. Chapter 6

Steve pushes the door open to Cassidy's room and leans against the frame of it when he can. Cassidy is sitting on the floor, Lego bricks spread out around her and a tower of mismatched blocks being put together messily but surely. Her tongue is sticking out of the side of her mouth, her hair is a mess already, and all of it makes Steve smile fondly at her.

He watches her for a minute, heart warming and smile softening as she keeps putting pieces together to form what is probably a castle. But then he pulls himself together, takes in a deep breath, and lightly raps his knuckles on the wood of the door frame.

Cassidy looks up and over at him at the sound. “Hi,” she greets him and returns to her building.

“Hey,” Steve greets back and steps into the room. “You got a minute to talk?”

Cassidy pauses and her face falls. She looks up at him carefully, almost timidly, her eyes big and brows furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?” she asks in a small voice.

“No,” Steve tells her immediately and she instantly relaxes with a heavy breath. He sits down in front of her, carefully out of the way of any of the Lego bricks scattered across the floor. “No, I just wanna talk.”

“Okay,” Cassidy says and starts building her tower again. “About what?”

“Well,” Steve says and picks up a brick of his own that he puts on top of her tower. He pauses for a long minute, unsure of how to approach this. He's never really done it, never really thought it would be necessary because he never thought he would meet someone he'd be able to see himself have a future with.

But then Bucky showed up and Steve was proven wrong. He's spend the past hour trying to figure out how to start this conversation, has done his extensive googling on the subject, but he came up empty handed and still has no idea where to even begin.

“You know how it's always just been you and me?” he finally starts and hands Cassidy a brick when she reaches for it.

“Yeah,” she says and puts the brick on the tower. “'Cause aunt Rose didn't wanna be a mom.”

“Right.” Steve pauses for a moment, fidgeting with the yellow brick in his hand. “How would you feel about me dating someone?”

Cassidy stops building. Her face falls the tiniest bit and she looks downward for a moment. She looks thoughtful and Steve stays quiet to let her think. Although he can't help but find himself getting nervous when her brows furrows and a little pout pulls at her lips.

“Does that mean you won't have time for me anymore?” Cassidy asks after a long silence.

“Oh, Cassie,” Steve lets out in a breath and immediately scoots over to sit beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a hug that she leans into heavily. “Never. You will always be the most important person in my life and that will never change, no matter what. You're my number one, always and forever, and me dating someone will never change that. It won't change a thing for us, other than maybe getting another person in the family if it goes well.”

He pauses, brushing Cassidy's hair out of her face and kissing the top of her head. “But only if you're okay with it,” he says. “And only if you like them too. Nothing is gonna happen if you're not okay with it, Cassie. Nothing.”

“Pinky promise?” Cassidy asks, words muffled slightly by his shirt.

Steve reaches out for her hand and hooks his pinky with hers. “Pinky promise.”

Cassidy is silent for a minute and Steve lets her think it over. He keeps his hand wrapped around hers, lets her play absently with his fingers before she reaches out for a handful of Lego bricks and starts putting them together in his palm. He doesn't mind and just lets her, keeping his palm as flat as possible.

When they've both been silent for too long, Steve says, “You didn't answer my question, Cassie.”

“Well,” Cassidy starts and shifts until she's sitting between his spread legs, dragging his hand with her to keep using it as a platform. “It depends on who you wanna date.”

“Okay,” Steve says with a nod. “What are the requirements of my potential future partner?”

Cassidy hums in thought. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Could be either,” Steve says. “You know I'm bisexual, I told you that.”

“Yeah, and you like both but you already like someone. Obviously. I'm seven, I'm not stupid.”

Steve smiles into her hair and bites back a laugh. “Obviously,” he repeats. “Well, the person I like is a boy.”

“Okay.” Cassidy leans heavily back against his chest. “He needs to be nice and kind. Oh! And funny. Is he funny?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Good, 'cause everyone needs someone who can make them laugh. Who wants to be with someone if they can't make you laugh? That's stupid.”

Steve smiles down at her, fond and soft.

“He needs to make you happy too. If he can't do that, then I'm gonna punch him in the stomach and he can go away forever.”

Steve lets out a chuckle and hugs her close to himself. “I'm sure he could make me very happy if he got a chance to,” he says. So far, he hasn't seen a reason why Bucky wouldn't. The thought of him alone is enough to make Steve's heart sing with happiness and the real deal (which is only texting these days) is just as good.

“Okay.” Cassidy pauses for a moment, absently fidgeting with the handful of Lego bricks in Steve's palm. “Would he like me?”

“Cassie,” Steve says seriously. “You're impossible not to like.”

“That's not true.”

“It is. Anyone who doesn't like you is an idiot.” He kisses her cheek. “And for the record, he would love you.”

Cassidy hums noncommittally and falls silent. She's not silent for very long though.

“Dad,” she says after a few minutes. “Who do you wanna date?”

Steve hesitates for only a brief moment. “You remember Bucky, right?”

“Yeah!” Cassidy says, suddenly brightening, and she twists around to smile widely up at him. “He's awesome!”

“I think so too,” Steve says and smiles down at her.

Cassidy regards him for a minute before she gives a nod. “Then okay,” she says and turns back around to lean back against his chest. “You can date him.”

Steve hugs her tightly and bends down to kiss her cheek over and over and over again until she makes a noise of protest and tries to wiggle out of his grip. He only tightens his grip and keeps kissing her cheek while she giggles and tries to get away.

“Dad!” she laughs loudly and puts a hand in his face. “Daaad, stop! Your beard tickles!”

Steve doesn't stop. He only hugs her tighter and blows a raspberry on her cheek before continuing to pepper her face with kisses, grinning widely as she shoves at him and tries to wiggle out of his arms.

Eventually though he has mercy on her and lets her go. She doesn't stay away for long and soon enough climbs into his lap again, letting him help her build her castle of Lego bricks.

♜

“Is Bucky gonna be my new dad?” Cassidy asks the following morning.

Steve turns from where he's making himself breakfast and looks toward her over his shoulder. She's sitting by the table, back turned to him and feet kicking under her chair as she eats her breakfast cereal.

“I haven't even asked him out yet, Cassie,” he says and turns back around.

“No,” Cassidy says around a mouthful. “But you're gonna date and be boyfriends, right?”

“If he says yes and it goes well, yes.”

“So he could be my new dad.”

“I guess so. But,” Steve lets go of everything and walks over to her, crouching down and looking up at her, “only if it goes well and only if you want him to be. I told you, if you're not okay with something, it won't happen. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassidy says with a dismissive hand movement. “If he becomes my new dad, does that mean we never have to deal with car problems again 'cause he'll fix it?”

With a small and amused smile on his lips, Steve rolls his eyes and nudges her cheek with his knuckles as he stands up. “Eat your breakfast, young lady,” he says and walks back to his own.

“I'm just saying,” Cassidy murmurs but she does as she's told.

Steve smiles down at his breakfast and shakes his head in exasperated fondness.

♜

Steve does his best to look casual as he strolls into the Commandos Auto Repair garage, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket and heart pounding away nervously in his chest. He nods at Gabriel and Tim by the counter as he passes them, Tim nodding back and Gabriel raising his hand in greeting, but he doesn't stop or slow down to talk or greet them properly.

No, he's on a mission and he's not going to get sidetracked because he knows that if he doesn't go straight there, he's going to get cold feet and abort the mission and never get it done.

So he marches straight over to where Bucky is working on a car, bend down under the open hood and looking oily and sweaty and like he walked straight out of a wet dream. Steve's wet dream, to be specific.

Steve takes in a deep breath as he nears, passing by someone rolled under a pickup truck but not spearing them more than a quick and curious glance. He wants to keep looking, settle his curiosity, but he forces himself to stay focused on the mission.

When he's only a few feet away, Bucky stands back up straight after ducking out from under the popped hood and his eyes flicker toward Steve as his left hand, the metallic fingers catching the sunlight briefly, grabs the dirty rag that hangs from his front pocket this time. He does a double take that Steve would probably find hilarious if it wasn't for the knee weakening smile that follows it.

Bucky turns to him and leans his hip casually against the car he's fixing while he wipes his dirty right hand in the rag to clean it up as well as he can. His smile is crooked and soft, his features that were hard before slowly softening little by little as his eyes wander over Steve. It's in no way subtle and it's obvious he's not trying to be either.

He looks so good in an effortless way despite being sweaty and full of oil and Steve steels himself when he feels his knees malfunctioning.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky greets him, the nickname making Steve's heart do funny things.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greets him back and comes to a stop a few steps between them, forcing himself to stop so he doesn't end up invading his space too much and coming off like an overeager asshole.

“You here with coffee or car trouble?” Bucky asks and hooks his thumbs into the belt hanging around his hips. It looks to be more for accessory than practical use.

Steve pulls both hands out of his pockets and holds them up. “You see any coffee?”

“No, but apparently you brought me a whole buttload of sass,” Bucky says dryly.

Steve grins at him and slides his hands back into his pockets. It's easier to keep them there than have to worry about what to do with them, anyway. He doesn't need to feel more nervous than he already does. Although, standing in front of Bucky, he doesn't feel as nervous as he did when he came in. Bucky just sort of puts him at ease, in a way.

“So not coffee,” Bucky concludes. “I'm guessing your car is giving you trouble again then?”

“Nope, it's still functioning perfectly fine.”

“Okay. Then why are you here?”

Steve shrugs and says, “Maybe I just wanted to see you.” His cheeks are hot but he ignores it.

Bucky smiles at him, soft and near fond. “Aw, ain't that cute. Can't blame you, really. I'm obviously great company.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve says and gives him a look when he notices Bucky's flat tone. “You're not that bad.”

“Steve.” Bucky gives him a look right back. “My own friends call me a grumpy, anti-social asshole. I am that bad.”

“Maybe I like that though,” Steve says in a near mutter and lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

“To match your own asshole personality, sure.”

Steve narrows his eyes at him and Bucky grins widely in return.

“I can just leave again,” Steve says and gestures behind him. If he takes his eyes off of Bucky and looks to where he's pointing, he would see Gabriel and Tim watching them with interest.

But he doesn't so he doesn't.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Bucky says, probably trying to be threatening but his grin ruins it. “I will literally tie you to this car if you so much as even try.”

Steve quickly stores away any and all thoughts that statement gives him.

“Kinky,” he says anyway, carefully keeping his tone dry and expression deadpan.

He's rewarded with a pink color rising to Bucky's cheeks and he can't help but feel a little proud of himself for having done that.

Bucky rolls his eyes and lets out a huff, somehow only going more pink when Steve grins at him and waggles his brows in just a few, quick jumps. It's stupidly cute and ridiculously fun. Steve could do this all day.

“Anyway,” Bucky says, apparently desperate to change the subject. “You mind if I keep working while we talk?”

“Not at all,” Steve says. “Don't let me distract you from doing your job.”

“I thought we already established that you're plenty distracting just standing there,” Bucky says and sends him a lopsided smile as he bends down under the popped hood. “You could stand as still as a fucking statue and not say a damn word and I'd get distracted.”

Steve hums and steps over to stand beside him, casually leaning against the side of the car. Never for a second does he look away from Bucky. “Maybe you need to work on your ability to focus,” he says teasingly.

Bucky chuckles and says, “Maybe.”

They fall silent for a minute; Bucky fiddles with car parts that Steve wouldn't be able to name even if he's held at gun point and Steve watches him.

Bucky's prosthetic hand works almost identically to his right. His fingers on the left are slightly stiffer, moving mechanically, while the fingers on his right are much more flexible, almost dancing along the car parts. It's mesmerizing to look at, like a live artwork that Steve itches to draw.

Well, that's how he'd describe all of Bucky. Not just his mismatched hands.

“I, uh,” Steve says after a couple of minutes, breaking the silence. He clears his throat and shifts on the spot, tearing his eyes away from Bucky to look at his feet. “I actually did come here for a reason.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says and glances his way briefly before going right back to work. “You didn't just come here to get your daily dose of Bucky Barnes?”

“Well, that too,” Steve says with a chuckle that he can't help. It quickly dies though and is replaced by nerves that flares right back up now that the time has come. “But, uh... I was actually wonder if you'd wanna maybe have a cup of coffee with me. Sometime. Maybe.”

Bucky instantly stops working, hands stilling abruptly. He blinks three times (Steve counts, watching his reaction carefully) before he slowly turns his head toward him and grins, a glint in his eyes.

“You asking me on a date, Rogers?” Bucky asks, his tone teasing.

“No!” Steve blurts, a little too loud and a little too fast. His cheeks burn bright red when Bucky raises both brows at him. “Uh, no,” he says and clears his throat. “No. Just– Uh, just a cup of coffee. As friends. Just friends.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him, a teasing glint in them. “Alright,” he says slowly. A small grin plays over his lips. “It's a not-date.”

“Great,” Steve says and lets out a slow and relieved breath while ignoring the knowing and teasing look Bucky's giving him. He responds to it with a smile. “How 'bout tomorrow?”

“Well,” Bucky says and leans back down to work. “I get off around five.”

“Okay. What about your lunch break?”

Bucky gives him a look and says, “That's thirty minutes, Steve.”

“Okay?”

“Not enough time.”

Steve blinks. “You can't drink coffee in thirty minutes?”

“I meant not enough time with you, dummy.

Steve blinks. A blush rises to his cheeks and he smiles down at his feet in a failing attempt to hide it.

“So,” Bucky continues. “Does sometime around five or six work for you?”

“Well, it's a weekday,” Steve says and looks back up from his feet, “and I gotta pick up Cassidy at three but I can probably get Sam or Nat to look after her for a coupe of hours.”

“Sweet,” Bucky says. “And when you say coffee, you don't mean only coffee, right? 'Cause I'll just have gotten off work so I'm definitely gonna be hungry.”

“Hey, I'm not stopping you from getting something to eat too if you want.”

“Better not or I'll eat you instead.”

Steve bites his tongue to stop himself from making any jokes.

Bucky suddenly pauses. “That,” he starts. “That sounds kinda sexual, doesn't it?”

“Little bit, maybe.”

“Well.” Bucky looks at him and smirks. “Maybe if you're lucky.”

“Bucky,” Steve says – and definitely does not squeak – and blushes bright red.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky says, laughing. “Not a date, I know.”

“Right, so,” Steve says and clears his throat, desperate to change the subject before he spontaneously combusts. “Tomorrow, around five or six?”

Bucky nods, shoots him that knee weakening smile, and says, “Yeah. I'll be looking forward to it.”

♜

The sauce from the meat sizzles in the pan when Steve lightly pushes down on it with his wooden spoon. The steam flies upward, momentarily fogging up his glasses, and he leans back a little to let them clear up again. He sniffs the air softly, taking in the smell of food being cooked, and his stomach rumbles in response.

Steve moves the meat around on the surface of the pan almost absently before he turns and looks over his shoulder, a smile on his lips at the sight he's met with.

Cassidy is sitting by the dinner table, hunched over and her elbows on the table. Her hand is wrapped tightly around a red pen that she's moving over a piece of paper, several more laid out across the table. Her head is leaning against her other hand, her tongue is sticking out of the corner of her mouth, and she hums a little every time she grabs a new pen.

An hour ago, Cassidy came out from her room and asked if she could help him make dinner. Steve said yes immediately, of course, and Cassidy complained about his scratchy beard when he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

She only helped for ten minutes though, cutting up a few vegetables and eating most of them, before she got bored and decided to draw instead. Steve didn't and doesn't mind. Especially not when she sits out in the kitchen instead of in her room or in the living room like she usually does.

With a smile on his lips, Steve turns back around and focuses on the cooking. For all of two minutes before he decides to break the silence.

“So, Cassie,” he starts and waits to hear her responding hum before he continues. “I talked to Bucky today.”

“Did you ask him out?” Cassidy asks without stopping what she's doing.

“Well,” Steve says and pauses for a beat to make a face at himself. “Sort of. I asked him out for coffee. As friends.”

Cassidy stops drawing and groans, “Dad!”

Steve glances over his shoulder and finds Cassidy looking back at him. “What?”

“You didn't do it right,” she tells him.

“I know,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes and turns back around to cook. “But I will do it right. Eventually. I just wanted you to know that I did it because I want you to be in the loop with this.”

“What does in the loop mean?”

“It means being aware of something only a few know and it means I'll keep you updated on how it goes with Bucky.” He looks at her over his shoulder. “That okay with you?”

Cassidy nods and says, “Yeah, that's okay.”

“Okay,” Steve says and smiles at her.

Silence falls over them again. This time it lasts until dinner is a few minutes away from being done and it only breaks when Steve asks Cassidy to take her stuff to her room and set the table, which she does with a minimal amount of whining after telling him she just needs one more minute to finish her drawing.

She says that for the following five minutes.

It's only partway through dinner that Cassidy decides to bring up the subject of Bucky again.

“So do I get twice as many presents on Christmas when Bucky becomes my second dad?” she asks before stuffing her mouth with a forkful of vegetables.

Steve lifts his gaze from where he's cutting into his meat and gives her a warning look. Cassidy just smiles widely and innocently back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life. <3


	7. Chapter 7

Steve desperately wants the floor to swallow him up and take him somewhere far, far away from where he is at the moment. He wants some supernatural power to teleport him far away from the staring eyes and the knowing grins that have been directed at him since he opened his big, stupid fucking mouth and let his plans spill.

Silently and in his mind, he calls himself a giant fucking idiot for thinking this would go differently in any way. He knows his friends and he knew this was how they would react when (because they always do, there's no if about it) they find out he has a date. A _not_ -date, he reminds himself.

It's not a date. It's not. It's just two friends getting coffee and maybe something to eat together.

But with the wide and knowing grins and the waggling eyebrows and the teasing glint in both sets of eyes, Steve knows he is fooling absolutely no one. He knows that neither Sam nor Natasha believes him when he says, “It's not a date!” for the third time in the past five minutes alone.

“Not a date, my bare ass,” Sam says and snorts. “What the hell would you call it then?”

Steve opens his mouth but shuts it again when no words leave him. He shrugs and says, “Bucky called it a not-date.”

“That's just code for him wanting it to be a date,” Natasha says and rolls her eyes.

“But it's not a date,” Steve mumbles, somewhat helplessly, and sags back against his seat.

Natasha and Sam share a look, then both turn to give him the same one. Steve narrows his eyes at them and lifts his right hand briefly to flip them off.

“It's not a date,” he insists. “It's not. We're just getting coffee and having a friendly chat, not playing footsie and making eyes at each other and touching and shit.”

“Oh, trust me,” Sam says with a laugh. “You're gonna be making eyes at each other whether you realize it or not.”

Natasha snickers and nods her head in agreement. Steve rolls his eyes bodily and groans. He wants to either sink into the couch cushions and disappear or pick the couch itself up and throw it at them to make them shut the fuck up already. Because no matter how many times he tells them to do so, they never do.

“Can we stop with this already? I need to leave,” Steve glances down at his phone, wakening it up to check the time, “in three minutes or I'll be late.”

“You'll be late anyway,” Natasha points out. “You always are.”

“It's true,” Sam agrees in a mutter.

Steve rolls his eyes, stands up, and says, “Well, then I don't wanna make myself even more late. I'm gonna go say bye to Cassie and then I'm leaving.” He pauses, stepping around the coffee table, and heads toward the hallway. “Shitheads,” he finishes and flips them both off.

He can hear Natasha and Sam chuckling and saying something to each other but their voices are distant and muted as he walks through the house, their voices only becoming more and more distant as he heads up the stairs and down the hall to Ayanna's room.

The door to her room is closed but he can hear a pair of familiar voices talking and laughing behind it and, before he knows it, there's a fond and soft smile forming on his lips. He almost doesn't want to disturb them, wants to let them have their moment uninterrupted.

But time is ticking by and he has to leave. And he can't leave without seeing Cassidy at least once more.

Taking in a deep breath, Steve raises his hand and raps his knuckles against the wood of the door in a knock. The laughter dies down a little on the other side, a few muffled words are said, and then Ayanna's voice calls out, “Come in!”

Steve pushes the door open and peers inside. Immediately, he bites back a laugh and smiles in amusement instead.

The room is nothing short of a mess. It's like a bomb went off or like a flood swept through the entire room and has taken everything out of its respective place and thrown it carelessly around. Steve wouldn't be surprised if the toys that are spread out on the floor and on the bed are every single toy Ayanna owns.

Those two always do leave a mess in their wake, especially when they're together.

Ayanna is laying on her stomach on the bed, a lion plush toy in her hands, while Cassidy is laying on her back a short distance away, head lolling over the edge and eyes on their visitor. Her hair is a mess, the ponytail it was in previously having come undone at some point.

Cassidy smiles at him, wide and toothily. She giggles and squirms when Ayanna pokes at her side.

Steve smiles warmly back at her and leans against the door frame. “Cassie,” he says and waits for them to stop giggling and poking at each other before he continues. “I gotta get going. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Cassidy says and swings her arms over the edge of the bed too. “You've got a date, it's okay.”

Steve fights the groan and instead gives her a look. “It's not a date.”

“Only 'cause you did it wrong.”

“How did he do it wrong?” Ayanna asks and crosses her legs.

Cassidy places her hands flat on the floor. “He said it was just as friends even though he wants it to be as more than friends,” she says and then swings her legs over her head, flipping off the bed and landing on the floor.

“Uncle Steve,” Ayanna says and turns to him with a gape. “That's not how you do it.”

Steve rolls his eyes while Cassidy leaps onto the bed and exclaims, “That's what I said!”

“Alright, well, I'm going now,” Steve says and gives them both a look that he means to be warning but only makes them lean into each other, giggling.

He shakes his head at them but can't help the fond smile that tugs at his lips when their giggles turn into bright laughs. With a quick roll of his eyes, he walks into the room and over to them, bending down to kiss the top of Cassidy's head.

“You behave, alright, giggle monster?” he says and brushes the hair out of her face.

Cassidy nods and, still giggling a little, she stands up on her knees and wraps her arms around his neck. He goes down willingly, wrapping an arm around her and returning the hug.

“No promises,” she says into his shoulder and Steve scoffs at her.

“Ayanna,” he says and looks over at Ayanna as he pats Cassidy's back and leans away once he's released from her grip. “You keep an eye on this one, okay? Report back to me if she does something stupid.”

Ayanna hums and tilts her head to the side. “No promises,” she says after a while and the two of them start giggling again, Cassidy throwing herself back onto the bed next to Ayanna and grinning widely and brightly up at her.

Steve gives them both an exasperated look but finds himself smiling despite his best efforts to bite it back.

He leaves them to it, only hesitating in the doorway for a brief moment because leaving his daughter somewhere is never an easy thing to do. You would think that after seven years of it, it would have gotten easier. It hasn't. He doubts it ever will because if he could spend every waken moment with Cassidy until he draws his last breath, he would.

On his way to the stairs, he passes by Adwin's room. The door is closed but he can hear the sound of a movie playing and he smiles a little. He doesn't knock, doesn't want to disturb him, so he continues forward, passing by Panther who comes strolling down the hall from the bathroom.

Steve makes it about halfway down the stairs before the front door opens and T'Challa steps inside. He's clad in a fancy looking suit with the vest and blazer unbuttoned and he looks tired as all hell.

“Hey, T'Challa,” Steve greets him when he finally makes it to the bottom of the stairs and smiles when T'Challa looks his way. “Long day?”

T'Challa lets out a sigh and nods. “Very long,” he says and then pauses, giving Steve a calculating look. “You're not staying?”

“Nah, I've got,” Steve gestures with his hands and ignores the heat in his cheeks, “a thing.”

“He's got a date,” a voice says behind him and Steve instantly looks over his shoulder to glare at Sam who's approaching them with a wide and toothy grin on his lips. “With Bucky.”

“Really?” T'Challa sounds genuinely surprised and maybe a little impressed as well.

Steve follows Sam with his eyes, keeps his glare glued to him while Sam just grins back and goes over to husband to kiss him. T'Challa kisses him back, slipping an arm around his waist. He already looks much more relaxed and content than when he walked in through the door.

Steve would gag at them but he's too busy glaring daggers at Sam.

“It's not a date,” he says for what feels like the billionth time in just an hour.

Sam gives him the same look he has given him the past several times; unconvinced and slightly judgmental. T'Challa remains carefully neutral but Steve can see the unconvinced look peeking through anyway.

He narrows his eyes at them.

“It's not,” he insists firmly. It's starting to sound like a lie to even his own ears.

Sam raises his brows pointedly and T'Challa's mask starts slipping.

Steve rolls his eyes, groans, and shoulders past them to get to the door. “Goodbye, asshole,” he says as he steps out. He turns around and calls out, “Bye, Nat!” before he closes the door to shut out the laughter that erupts from inside.

He really needs to get himself some new friends.

♜

When Steve arrives at the diner that Bucky suggested they meet at, he's only a few minutes late. He wants to blame it on the traffic but really, being late is just a part of who he is as a person. Traffic is only a very small factor in why he's late.

Finding a spot to park his car is surprisingly easy despite the rush hour happening. Steve doesn't question it and immediately takes the spot that's handed to him on a silver platter, silently thanking the universe for letting him have this one thing so he doesn't get even more late than he already is.

Once the car is parked and his seat belt is undone, Steve lets out a heavy breath and flops back against his seat. He flips the visor down and opens the mirror, fidgeting with his hair and smoothing down his beard for only a moment before he realizes how stupid that is.

He scoffs at his own reflection and closes the visor maybe a little aggressively. Letting out a breath that isn't as calming or as steeling as he hoped, he pushes the car door open and steps out.

Unsurprisingly, Bucky is already waiting for him in front of the diner. He's stood leaning his right shoulder against a lamppost, left hand tugged into the pocket of his jacket, and looking effortlessly gorgeous.

But it's obvious, even from where Steve is slowly nearing, that Bucky has made an effort to look nice. Steve knows that he got off from work only an hour ago and Steve knows what Bucky looks like after work; sweaty, oily, gross in every way possible (yet somehow still incredibly hot).

Bucky now, though? Bucky is clean, hair pulled back into a neat bun that sits at the nape of his neck. His pants hug his thighs in all the right places and the boots he's wearing look either new or freshly cleaned rather than the dirty ones Steve saw him wearing at the barbecue a few weeks ago. He hasn't shaved, there's still stubble covering his jaw, but it looks slightly more trimmed than usual.

Bucky has made an effort to look nice and Steve's heart does a funny flutter and warms at the thought, a soft smile already forming on his lips.

Steve's only a few steps away from him when Bucky seems to notice him. His head turns and it doesn't take long before a smile appears on his lips after his eyes land on Steve, the smile replacing the frown and near glare that was on his face before.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky greets him and pushes himself off of the lamppost to turn and face him. The last remainder of his sour look washes away and with the sun still hanging on the slowly darkening sky above, he looks like a work of art that Steve is itching to put down on paper.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greets back and silently begs for his heart to calm down. “Sorry I'm late. Traffic was–”

“Not the problem,” Bucky finishes for him, cutting him off and effectively shutting him up with a pointed look. “You don't think Natasha told me about your constant problem with being late? C'mon, Steve.”

Steve blinks, then lets out a chuckle and winces. “Yeah,” he says with a shake of his head. “I'm real fucking bad with being on time.”

“Good thing you're worth waiting for then,” Bucky says.

Suddenly it feels like it got a million degrees hotter and Steve feels his face heat up as he blinks almost owlishly at Bucky. He opens his mouth to say something back – what, he has no idea because his brain is nothing but one giant error message at the moment – but Bucky continues before he even gets a chance to try anyway.

“Come on,” Bucky says and reaches out to put his right hand on Steve's arm, his smile still soft but now with a hint of smugness in the corners. “Let's go in and find somewhere to sit, Captain Tomato.”

Steve shoves at him and sends him a halfhearted glare while his cheeks only grow hotter and redder. Bucky grins widely at him and shoves back, pushing him toward the entrance of the diner. Steve finds himself going willingly but puts on an unhappy pout just to hear Bucky laugh in his ear.

The diner is busy and full which is unsurprising considering the time of day. That doesn't seem to be any problem though because, with a hand gently resting on Steve's lower back that Steve is painfully aware of, Bucky guides them through the diner and toward an empty table in the back, two seats and slightly separated from the rest of the place.

Steve has a feeling that Bucky had enough time waiting for him to pick out the perfect table. The thought makes him feel partly guilty, never loving making people wait for him, and partly warm because Bucky made an effort. And this isn't even a date. Not really.

Once they make it to the cleared table, Steve has half a mind to jokingly pull the chair out for Bucky. But he doesn't and instead shoves the urge away and sits down in the seat Bucky doesn't take.

“Uh, hope you don't mind,” he says and pulls his phone out of his pocket, laying it screen up on the table while sending Bucky a sheepish smile. “Just in case Cassidy needs me.”

Bucky's eyes drop to the phone on the table, screen dark and dirty with fingerprints and various flicks of dust. His eyes don't stay there long before they return to Steve and his lips curve up into a smile, soft around the edges and a certain fondness in his eyes.

“Don't worry about it,” he says with a quick and dismissive wave of his right hand, the left laying flat and still on the table between them. “You're just being a good dad. I'll never mind that.”

“Good 'cause I'm busting my ass trying to be one,” Steve says and smiles down at the menu laid out on the table when he hears Bucky chuckling.

“Looks like an effortless fight,” Bucky says.

Steve looks up and meets Bucky's eyes. He pauses for a moment then says, “When you love someone, fighting is the easiest thing. And I love Cassie. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me and she deserves everything good in the world. I try to give her that by loving her unconditionally and doing what's best for her. It can be tough but a hundred percent worth it.”

Bucky's face smooths out into a soft expression and he raises his hand to point at Steve. “Good dad,” he says. “Might even be the best, if you ask me.”

Steve dips his chin and smiles down at the menus. He can feel his cheeks heating gradually but at least his heart is relatively calm for now. Deciding to move on, he leans forward and places his elbows on the table, his hands dangling off the edge as he eyes the menu.

“So,” he says and scans the drinks quickly. “What 're you getting?”

“I don't know about you,” Bucky says and leans back instead of forward, swinging his right arm over the back of his chair as he slouches down slightly, “but I'm starving and I hear this place has got a fucking amazing burger so I'm getting one of those. Coffee too, of course.”

Steve chuckles, bops his head in a quick nod, and says, “Well, then maybe I'll grab a salad with my coffee.”

When Bucky doesn't answer and a silence hangs in the air between them for a second too long, Steve lifts his gaze and finds Bucky looking at him, brow raised in what can only be judgment.

“What?” Steve asks in a mumble.

“A salad, Steve? Really?”

“What?” Steve asks again, this time defensively.

“A _salad_ ,” Bucky repeats firmly while his brows jump up his forehead.

“Fuck off, I'm being healthy.”

Bucky's brows continue their ascend upwards.

“Stop it,” Steve groans but he can't quite stop himself from laughing when Bucky's brows just keep going up and up and up. “Buck, I'm just being healthy. Shut the fuck up.”

“But a _salad_ , Steve,” Bucky says and gives him a bewildered look. “A fucking salad.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with a salad?”

“In a word? Everything.”

Steve gives him a deadpan look. “Wow, Buck,” he says dryly. “What an elaborate answer. Be still, my heart.”

“Keep your pants on, Stevie. We're still in public.”

They stare at each other, both with deadpan looks on their faces, for almost a full five seconds before they both crack a wide grin. Steve is the first to laugh and Bucky follows suit right after.

It's so easy with Bucky, so nice and calm and everything comes so naturally, like they've known each other for years. It's so easy to get trapped in this little bubble and forgetting about the outside world. But Steve doesn't let himself get completely trapped, glancing down at his phone that's still locked and with no new messages.

Being with Bucky is nice and made him happy. But he still misses Cassidy.

“Seriously though,” Bucky says after a minute and Steve looks back at him. “A salad.”

Steve sits silently and studies him for a moment, contemplating and weighing his options. He can tell the truth or he can avoid it and continue to be defensive about his choice of meal. In the end, looking at those curious eyes across the table from him, he decides to be honest.

“I had a lot of health problems when I was growing up,” he says. “Got close to dying more times than I can count. My mom – she died when I was pretty young. It sucked. I don't want Cassie to go through the same thing just because I didn't bother to take care of myself and started getting sick again.”

Bucky's expression goes from teasing to soft in a millisecond. His face falls a little, his shoulders slumping and smile fading ever so slightly but it's obvious he forces it to stay. It doesn't take long before the forced smile is replaced with a real one.

“You know what's not healthy?” Bucky asks and looks at Steve with a certain fondness and sincerity in his eyes. He pauses briefly before he says, “Denying yourself the pleasure of a good burger.”

Steve gives him a look. “You just don't want me to get a salad,” he says. “What do you have against salads anyway? Did a salad murder your family?”

“No, a salad cut off my arm,” Bucky says dryly and with a quick wave of his left hand. He doesn't let Steve even think about coming up with a way to respond to that before he continues. “Come on, Stevie. One burger ain't gonna kill you.”

Steve looks at him, uncertain and grimacing.

“And besides,” Bucky continues. “Wouldn't you rather have Cassie see you happy and enjoying yourself than miserable because you're stuck eating boring ass salads all the time?”

Steve shakes his head a little, a smile forcing its way onto his lips. “You're a bad influence, Bucky Barnes.”

“If by bad influence you mean getting you to live your life a little, then I'm okay with that.”

Steve lets out a little huff of a chuckle and throws his hands up momentarily. “Fine,” he says. “I'm getting a damn burger.”

Bucky throws up a fist in celebration and Steve gives him a judgmental look but can't help himself from snorting anyway.

A waitress comes walking over toward them with a tired smile on her lips, notepad and pen already out. Steve immediately notices that Bucky's face falls a little, notices that Bucky instantly scurries back into his hole and starts looking uncomfortable, subtly leaning away.

Steve says nothing though and only sends him a smile when Bucky glances his way quickly.

They order their coffees first, Steve getting his plain black with milk and Bucky getting his disgustingly sweet. So sweet that Steve makes a face at him. All Bucky does is wink at him in response.

Steve lets Bucky order the burgers and Bucky orders them both the same kind of burger that, admittedly, sounds delicious. The thought of it makes Steve's mouth water ever so slightly and his stomach grumbles in a reminder that he hasn't eaten in too long.

Okay, so maybe getting a burger isn't such a bad idea after all. A salad wouldn't be filling anyway.

The waitress leaves again, the smile on her lips still tired and looking more forced as it widens. The second her back is turned to them, Bucky lets out a quiet breath and seems to lose most of the tension in his body again.

“When you said you're not a people's person,” Steve says when the waitress is out of earshot, “you weren't kidding.”

Bucky lets out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, I'm really, really not. Used to be when I was younger but,” he trails off with a shrug.

Steve offers him a little smile and says, “You seem to be doing pretty okay with me though.”

Bucky is silent for a long moment, eyes going from a dirty spot on the corner of the table to meet Steve's. Steve tries not to feel uncomfortable with the silent staring. It's not that uncomfortable, actually. Not when the features on Bucky's face slowly softens little by little and especially not when the look in his eyes makes Steve feel... fluttery. Light. Safe.

“Well,” Bucky says, his smile lopsided and soft. “You're different.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or–?”

Bucky gives him a deadpan look and flicks a speck of something at him. “It's a compliment, asshole.”

“Are you sure? 'Cause in my experience, being called different is an insult in disguise.”

“Pal, if I wanted to insult you, I wouldn't be subtle about it. And I wouldn't start there either.”

“Where would you start then?”

Bucky quirks a brow. “You sure you wanna go there?”

“Yep.” Steve holds out his arms a little and leans back. “Hit me with it, Barnes.”

Bucky gives him a calculating look, his eyes narrow, and a little but obviously amused grin tugs at his lips. “Alright,” he says slowly. He licks his lips and Steve only lets himself glance down for a second before his eyes snap away, afraid of getting caught looking.

“Well,” Bucky says and leans forward. “I'd probably start with your dumb fucking nose.”

Steve lets out a startled laugh. “What the fuck's wrong with my nose?”

“Have you looked at it? Steve, it's crooked as shit.”

“That's what happens when you've broken it several times. 's not my fault.”

Bucky gives him a look and says, “Something tells me it actually was your fault.”

Steve pauses, then shrugs. “Okay, so maybe it was a little bit my fault.”

“You shit,” Bucky laughs. “What happened?”

“Used to get in a whole lot'a fights.”

“Used to? Not anymore?”

“Nah. Surprisingly, expecting a kid makes you grow the fuck up real fucking fast.”

Bucky hums and nods. “So you don't get in fights anymore, huh?”

“Nope,” Steve says and shakes his head. “I try not to.”

 _Try_ being the key word. He hasn't been in an actual fist fight with anyone for over four years now. The last time wasn't that bad but he had to go home to Cassidy with a split lip and bruised knuckles. She looked at him with teary and scared eyes and Steve made a conscious decision to stop. For good.

Sometimes it's hard, especially when he hears someone talk shit or he runs into a bigot or a racist, but, well, he does his best. For Cassidy's sake. She deserves better than a father who can't control his temper around assholes.

Now, Steve takes his temper out on canvases with brushes dripping with paint until the canvas is an ugly and angry mess of colors. Those never go anywhere but in the darkest corner of his closet, shamefully hidden away.

“Shame,” Bucky says in a near mutter. “Bet it was a real sight to see you fight.”

Steve snorts and says, “It was something, alright.”

“But obviously you were shit at it.”

Steve gives him an offended look.

“Steve, if you've broken your nose several times, there's no fucking way you were good at fighting.”

Steve wants to argue but– “Alright, good point.”

Bucky bows his head in a nod but never gets to say anything because then the waitress comes walking back over, cups of coffee in her hands, plates of burgers and fries balanced expertly on her forearms, and the tired smile still firmly in place on her lips.

Steve reaches out on instinct immediately, taking the coffees from her with a smile so she can get the plates and put them down herself. He hands Bucky his coffee – Bucky's cup is full of cream whereas Steve's is very much not – and the waitress puts the plates down with a smile and a kind, “Here you go, sirs.”

“Thank you,” both Steve and Bucky say at the same time.

They look at each other, both of their eyes wide with surprise. Steve bites back a laugh but is unable to contain the snort that escapes him, while Bucky chuckles lowly and the waitress snickers beside them, her smile no longer fake but rather amused instead.

She leaves them to it, saying, “Enjoy your meal,” before she turns around and heads away, disappearing into the still busy diner and going out of sight behind a group of teenagers or young adults sitting gathered around a table, eating pancakes despite the late time.

When Steve looks back at his company, tearing his eyes away from the two girls of the group leaning into each other casually and two of the boys holding hands openly on the table, he finds Bucky already holding his cup of coffee up to his nose, inhaling slowly with his eyes closed and face blissful and relaxed.

Steve's heart damn near stops beating or damn near skips a beat right then and there.

Bucky looks beautiful and when he exhales, slowly and obviously very pleased, he looks so relaxed and at peace and so goddamn gorgeous that Steve forgets how to breathe for a second.

He can't take his eyes off of him. No matter how many times he tells himself to look away and focus on anything else, like his own coffee, he just can't. So he watches him, watches as Bucky tips the cup a little, takes a swig, and licks the cream off of his top lip while setting the cup back down.

Steve doesn't even manage to tear his gaze away before Bucky looks at him and quirks a teasing brow at him, a glint in his eyes and the corner of his lips curling slightly.

“What?” Bucky asks, like he doesn't already know.

It takes a second for Steve to find his voice but when he does, he says, “That's disgusting.”

Bucky raises both brows at him. “Don't fucking judge me for my delicious coffee.”

“You judged me for wanting a salad, I think I have a right to judge you for your heart attack coffee.”

“You're just jealous,” Bucky says and lifts the cup to his lips.

“Jealous?” Steve snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“You are. This?” Bucky points at the cup, metal finger clinking against the marble. “This is like heaven in a cup.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Why don't you give it a try then?”

Steve holds up both hands when Bucky hands him the cup. “I think I'm good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Bucky says with a shrug and takes a long, slurping swig. “Aah, the most delicious tasting heart attack.”

“You're gross,” Steve tells him. He doesn't even try to fight the smile that break out on his lips.

“You love it,” Bucky says and throws him a wink.

Steve laughs and shakes his head, stupidly charmed by this gorgeous, dorky man sitting in front of him. Ignoring the warmth surrounding his heart at the sound of Bucky's responding laughter, Steve raises his own cup of coffee, gently blows the steam away, and takes a sip.

Bucky throws himself at the burger after a few more sips, stuffing his mouth disgustingly. Steve doesn't make a comment. He just gives him a pointed look as he leans back in his seat, coffee warm in his hand.

Bucky looks back at him and adds a fry to his already full mouth.

Steve scrunches his nose at him but can't help the laugh that falls from his lips when Bucky tries to speak and all that comes out are muffled words and crumbs.

Bucky flips him off and continues to eat, now with smaller bites so he can speak between them. Steve does the same, his stomach appreciating the good and solid food that fills it and his heart appreciating the lack of boring salad.

It's partway through their burgers and fries and in the middle of a story about one of the many, countless fights Steve got into during high school that Steve feels something bump against his foot and stay there, pressed against the side of it. It takes him a moment to realize that it's Bucky's foot and Steve stumbles slightly over his own words.

At first he thinks it's an accident. People bump feet under the table sometimes, it happens.

But then Bucky doesn't move his foot away. He keeps it there, a solid weight against Steve's foot.

Steve's heart does a somersault and his cheeks turn bright red. He tries his best to ignore it, powering through his story, but judging by the knowing look in Bucky's eyes, he doesn't do a very good job at hiding how much that tiny, little touch effects him.

When the burgers are eaten and Steve's stomach is happily full, Bucky grabs both of their plates and dumps all of Steve's fries onto his own. Steve is about to complain and call him a rude asshole, but then Bucky puts the plate full of fries in the middle of the table and shoots him a charming smile.

“Sharing is caring, right?” Bucky says and picks up a fry between two metal fingers.

Steve chuckles and finds his eyes lingering on the metal fingers as they guide the fry into Bucky's mouth. He only spares Bucky's pretty pink and kissable lips a brief glance before his eyes are drawn right back to the fingers.

It's only when he notices Bucky looking back at him that he forces himself to look away, sending him an apologetic smile. Staring is rude, he knows that, but he couldn't help himself. That arm is a thing of beauty.

“You can ask, y'know,” Bucky says after a beat, picking up another fry. “I'm sure you're curious.”

Steve looks at him for a moment then shrugs. “Doesn't matter,” he says and grabs a couple of fries himself. “If you don't wanna talk about it or tell me, then I don't need to know. It's none of my business.”

Bucky's face softens slightly. “You just had to be the perfect man, didn't you?”

Steve snorts and says, “I'm far from perfect, believe me.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

Steve gives him a look then lifts his free hand and starts flicking up his fingers one by one as he lists; “I take naps in the middle of the day even though I'm only thirty-five. I procrastinate on my work constantly. I swear in front of my daughter all the fucking time, yet keep telling her not to do it herself. I don't have any matching socks left and I've stopped caring, to be honest. I become a lazy fucking slug the second I've dropped my daughter off at school. I've started talking to myself, believe it or not. Sam has called me out on telling dad jokes twice in the past week and–”

“Okay, stop, stop,” Bucky says, clutching his stomach and shaking his head a little as he laughs loudly.

Steve smiles at him, his heart melting slowly as he watches Bucky almost collapse over the table with laughter, his entire body shaking with it and his laughter rich and heartwarming and so genuine that Steve can't help but let out a laugh himself.

“Fuck, man,” Bucky lets out in a breath a couple of minutes later, his laughter subsided a little. “Does your daughter know you're a walking disaster?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve snorts. “She never lets me forget it. She's worse than Sam.”

That sets Bucky off again, his laughter not as loud this time but still just as amused and just as genuine as before. And Steve laughs too, joining him like it's the easiest thing in the world to do.

Sitting there, laughing with their feet pressed against each other under the table and fingers dangerously close to brushing as they both reach for a fry, Steve knows that it is. Or, it could be. One day.

It takes them both a couple of minutes to calm down, only to start laughing again the moment they lock eyes across the table and they both dissolve into giggles like they're not grown men. Steve feels light and happy, and he can't remember the last time he clicked this well with anyone.

It takes them a while but eventually their laughter dies down. Bucky has a pretty flush painted across his cheeks and Steve knows he has to look somewhat the same. Worse, he imagines, because he's Irish and his skin is much paler than Bucky's, the pink and red more revealing.

“You can still ask,” Bucky says after a minute. “It's okay.”

Steve gives Bucky a calculating look, immediately catching the tightness in his smile and the slight uncomfortable tension in his jaw. It doesn't take a genius, only someone willing enough to look, to see that Bucky is preparing himself for the worst.

So Steve won't give him the worst, won't ask the question he knows Bucky expects him to.

“Okay,” he says and pauses for a beat. When he speaks again, there's an easy smile on his lips. “How does it work?”

Bucky blinks, clearly surprised. “What?”

“Like,” Steve gestures with his hand. “How does it move?”

Bucky blinks again, the confusion that's written all over his face slowly fading away into a look of relief. A smile forms on his lips and he lets out a breath that he masks as a chuckle but Steve knows it's a sigh of relief.

Bucky starts telling him how his arm works – how it moves, how it's attached, the whole shebang – and Steve nods and listens intently even though he doesn't understand the technicalities that Bucky so passionately babbles on about.

Steve doesn't care that he understands nothing though. Bucky's face is bright and smiling, obviously very passionate about it, and Steve will happily feel stupid for a long time if he gets to see him looking like this more often.

♜

Time passes by seamlessly and way too quickly and before he knows it, Steve's phone buzzes against the table and the screen lights up with a message from Sam.

> **[** 07:57 PM **] Sam** : you coming back anytime soon or is your tongue stuck in bucky's throat? (;

Blushing bright red, Steve immediately grabs his phone and shoves it into his lap under the table before Bucky can so much as even glance at the screen.

Oh, he's going to fucking murder Sam. He's gonna punch him right in this dumb, stupid face.

When he looks across the table after grumbling out a curse, he finds Bucky already looking at him with a curious and questioning brow raised. Steve sends him a small, apologetic smile and briefly waves the now locked phone.

“Sorry,” he says. “I think Sam's getting tired of having an extra kid on his hands.”

Bucky raises both brows. “What time's it?”

“Eight.”

“Holy shit, really?” His eyes widen slightly in surprise and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow, time sure does fly when you're having fun.”

Steve smiles at him and takes a second to answer Sam, cursing him and telling him he'll be coming by to pick up Cassidy in about half an hour.

They split the bill when it arrives. “Since this wasn't a date or anything,” Bucky says with a grin as he puts his share onto the table.

“Right,” Steve mutters as he does the same. To tell the truth, he almost forgot about that. This felt so much like a date that he forgot it actually wasn't. Because he was stupid enough to say that it wasn't one.

Silently and in his head, he calls his past self a giant moron.

They leave the diner with everything stacked neatly on the table and with a handsome tip for the waitress. Steve offers her a smile and a polite nod when they pass her on the way out. She smiles back, looking even more tired than earlier but her smile is still professionally kind.

When they part ways outside the diner, after promising this won't be the last time they do something like it, Steve spends way too long just watching Bucky walk away. The urge to run after him, grab onto him, and kiss him is strong but Steve fights it.

If this was an actual, real date, he would probably do it. But it's not, he reminds himself, so he doesn't. Instead he bites his lip and only lets himself imagine it, for just a split second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life. <3


	8. Chapter 8

They keep happening, these little dates that aren't really dates at all. Not-dates, as Bucky called the first one and as Steve keeps insisting the following several are whenever Sam or Natasha or even T'Challa give him pointed looks that mean they don't buy his bullshit for even a second.

Thankfully, at least Clint doesn't seem to care and if he so much as even tries to bring up the Bucky subject, Steve can easily distract him with just about anything. Anything meaning pizza, coffee, video games, or by simply being an asshole and turning his head so Clint can't read his lips.

Cassidy keeps bothering him too, keeps asking if he's asked Bucky out on a real date yet or not, and every time he does the same thing; he grabs her and tickles her until both of them forget about it, Cassidy too busy laughing and running away from Steve's tickling hands and complaining about his scratchy beard, and Steve too busy enjoying the sound of his daughter's bright laughter.

It's not that Steve doesn't think about asking Bucky out on a proper date. He does, actually. Constantly. Every time they end one not-date and every time they go on another, there's never a second where he doesn't think about asking him out for real.

But he's scared. Truth to be told, he's fucking terrified.

Steve has never been one to run away from the things that scare him. He's the kind of person who stands up with his fists ready and fights against it, the kind of person who runs head first into danger and toward the thing that scares him until the fear washes away. He never runs away, always stands right back up whenever fear knocks his ass down, and he never gives up.

For some reason, dating multiplies that fear by a million. Dating and anything to do with romance sends him spiraling into a whirlwind of what ifs and every possible outcome, all of them negative, or every little second that could potentially happen on an actual date or in an actual relationship and it makes him want to puke his guts out.

He knows why it's like that, of course. And that's even more frustrating.

Despite the constant, nagging desire to make this into something more, Steve always enjoys every single second of every single not-date with Bucky. Every second spend with him is like the universe handing him the greatest dessert in the world on a silver platter and Steve eats it right up like he hasn't eaten in years.

Their not-dates mostly consist of Steve stopping by the garage and keeping Bucky company during his (way too short) lunch break. He always brings along a cup of coffee for Bucky (always so disgustingly sweet because Bucky likes that and who is Steve to deny him the small pleasures?) and a cup of something for himself. Sometimes it's tea, sometimes it's coffee, sometimes it's just a boring bottle of water.

Sometimes Steve brings food as well; a couple of sandwiches, some muffins, a burger or two or three, a fruit salad to show Bucky that salads can be delicious, you name it. It's not always but it quickly becomes more and more regularly after the first couple of times.

Because every time Steve stops by, Bucky gets this soft look on his face and Steve wants to put it there as often as he can. He wants to smooth away the hard edges and the frown and the glares from Bucky's face, wants to replace it with that soft, gorgeous look and a smile that reaches his eyes instead of just being on his lips for show.

And every time Bucky has to get back to work and Steve is about to leave, Steve wants to lean in and give him a kiss, uncaring that Gabriel or Jim or any of the others are watching them like their very own peanut gallery.

He wants to, can feel a tension between them that builds up for it and he has caught Bucky glancing at his lips a handful of times, but he never does it. He never dares to lean forward and capture those plush, pink lips with his own. Never once and he keeps beating himself up over it.

He could easily take the leap, jump out and catch this good thing that's _right there_. But he doesn't, fear holding him back for the first time in ages.

♜

It was only a matter of time, Steve supposes, before it would come to this. It was only a matter of time before Bucky would have enough of almost playing around. It was only a matter of time before it's no longer Steve's friends or his own daughter that ask him but Bucky himself that does.

It was only a matter of time but no amount of time could ever prepare Steve for this conversation.

“So, when are you gonna ask me out on a real date?” Bucky asks apropos of nothing.

They're seated outside the Commando Auto Repair shop, sitting on the park-like bench and table that look misplaced around the back of the place. The weather is nice, a few dark clouds hanging high on the blue sky above them and warning for rain later, and the noise from the garage is thankfully distant so they don't have to yell or even raise their voices.

Steve is already a good way into the fruit salad he bought on the way over, his cup of cold tea with a splash of citrus barely touched. Bucky has finished the burger that Steve picked up for him, making sure to give him something healthy for once. He practically devoured the thing and Steve called him gross more than once.

Now, Bucky is nursing his disgustingly sweet coffee and taking his time with it.

The question makes Steve pause with, well, everything. He freezes, plastic fork staying stabbed into a melon slice and eyes sticking to the small smile that curls at the corners of Bucky's lips. His heart may have stopped beating too, Steve's not entirely sure, but he's positive that he stopped breathing for a second there.

“What?” he manages to get out, blinking a few times and hoping his cheeks remain as free of a blush as possible.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky says and gives him a look, his smile softening a little. “I know you like me, I'm not an idiot. And I like you too. A lot, actually. So, what's holding you back from asking me out for real?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak but no sound, no words, come out.

“I'm not pushing you,” Bucky continues quickly, smile slipping and face turning serious. “Please don't think I am. You've got a kid and you haven't been with anyone for a while–”

“Years,” Steve lets out in a muttered breath.

Bucky nods, offers him a small smile. “Right. You haven't been with anyone for _years_ so I get that you need time. And when you're ready, I'll be here. I just,” he lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, “I thought I'd ask. Give you a little, encouraging push.”

Steve stares at him, unsure of what to say. He stares for so long that Bucky's face starts to fall, slipping into uncertainty and losing the softness he always has whenever Steve shows up and returning to the hardened and guarded expression he has with just about everyone else.

“Unless,” Bucky says and cuts himself off to swallow thickly. “Unless I've read it completely wrong and you're not actually interested in me.”

“What?” Immediately, Steve snaps back to reality and shakes his head. “No. What? You're a fucking moron if you think I'm not actually interested in you. Are you kidding me? Of course I am.”

His heart does a back flip the second he realizes what he's said. But he doesn't want to take it back, doesn't want to deny it. Not anymore. Especially not when Bucky's face softens again, his cheeks tinting a slight pink and a smile forming on his lips again.

There's still a hint of sadness in his eyes, Steve notes and instantly hates.

“But?” Bucky pushes quietly.

Steve looks at him for a moment, hesitating. It's not long, however, before he decides to just be honest and tell Bucky how it is. If they're ever going to become anything more than friends, like they both want to, then Steve has to open up his heart eventually, no matter how scared of it he is.

“But, my last relationship,” he says and sighs, slumping and looking down at the fruit he's absently stabbing with his fork. “It didn't exactly end that well. And it was also a long time ago.”

“Rose?” Bucky guesses, his voice soft.

Steve shakes his head and says, “Nah, what me and Rose had – it was never a relationship. We were friends who had sex more than we talked and neither of us wanted more than that, to be honest. It was just sex, that's it.”

“Friends with benefits?”

Steve huffs and nods. “Yeah, pretty much. It worked out pretty well for us, until–”

“Until she got pregnant,” Bucky finishes for him and Steve nods.

“Peggy was different though,” he says and lifts his gaze to meet Bucky's, a small smile on his lips that he knows has to look sad just from the way Bucky's face falls. “What I had with her? That was a real relationship. Not just sex, it was _real_. I loved her, I thought she was the one. I thought she was the one I was gonna marry, have kids with, grow old with, the whole thing.”

“What happened?” Bucky asks quietly.

Steve pauses then lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “Honestly? I don't know.”

Bucky's brows draw together in a confused furrow.

“One day we're happy,” Steve says and lets his smile grow a little at the memory. “We're smiling, laughing, laying naked in bed and kissing. We're _happy_. And the next, she's sitting me down and saying she wants to break up.”

“Steve–”

“And I didn't know what I did wrong,” Steve continues, cutting Bucky off with a small laugh that sounds bitter to even his own ears. “I still don't know what the hell I did wrong. I look back and try to figure out what went wrong and I come out empty. We were good, we were happy. So why did she break up with me?”

He sighs, shakes his head. “It doesn't really matter why, to be honest. I realize now that she probably wasn't all that happy with me. The kind of happiness she felt with me is nothing compared to the kind of happiness she feels with Angie.”

“Angie?”

“Angie,” Steve repeats, nodding and smiling a little despite himself. “Angie's her wife and honestly, if I believed in that kinda thing, I'd say she's her soulmate. They're perfect for each other and I'm happy for them. Hell, they're even about to adopt their first kid together.”

He pauses for a beat then says, “Peggy and I – we're still friends. Not as close as we used to be and we don't talk as much anymore, but she helped me a lot during the first couple of years after Cassidy was born. She probably helped more than she should've, actually. And I'm grateful that she's still in my life, but it...”

“But it still hurt like a motherfucker when she left,” Bucky finishes for him when Steve falls silent.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees and lets out a sigh. “I resented her for a long fucking time after. I was hurt and angry. Furious, actually. I hated Angie too but that was more because she could give Peggy what I couldn't; genuine happiness.”

“Steve, don't put yourself down like that. You said it yourself, she was happy with you.”

“Yes, but not _really_ happy. And that's fine, I've made my peace with it. It wasn't meant to be and I'm actually glad she broke up with me when she did because if it had been any later, she might have ended up hating me and we wouldn't have been friends after. I don't know what I'd do without her in my life, to be honest.”

Bucky looks at him for a long moment. “I feel like there's a but coming.”

“But,” Steve says and offers Bucky a quick smile. “Because of that – because of _her_ – I've gotten myself a nice case of trust and commitment issues. Anytime I even think about dating, well... It kinda makes me wanna throw up, to be honest. It scares the shit out of me, Buck.”

A hand touches his own and Steve drops his gaze to find Bucky's right hand curling around his own left. When he lifts his gaze again, sure that his cheeks are bright red, he finds Bucky smiling softly at him from across the table.

“You're afraid of getting hurt again,” Bucky says. “I get that.”

Steve sucks in a quick breath and takes a leap; he turns his hand over and curls it around Bucky's.

“I'm fucking terrified, Buck,” he says in a near whisper and lets their eyes lock. “I'm so fucking terrified that I'm gonna get my heart broken again or that I won't be enough for you or–”

“Hey,” Bucky interrupts him and squeezes his hand. “If you think for even one goddamn second that you're not enough, then you are dead fucking wrong, Rogers. You got that or do you need me to beat it into your thick head a couple of times?”

Steve lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, I got it,” he says. “Not sure I believe you but–”

“Well, then I'm just gonna have to remind you every now and then, don't I?” Bucky smiles at him and rubs his thumb over the back of Steve's hand slowly and gently.

“Until you get tired of it, sure.”

“Never, Stevie. I have unlimited stamina,” Bucky says and winks at him.

Steve flushes and shakes his head as he chuckles lowly. It dies down quick though, his brows furrowing and his expression turning serious again. “I'm still a dad, Buck,” he says. “Cassidy still comes first.”

“I know.”

“She'll always come first,” he continues. “And I don't know if I can put her through my heartbreak if we,” he gestures between them with his free hand, refusing to let go of Bucky's, “don't work out. I don't–”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts him, gently but firmly. “We're not doing anything until you're ready. Alright? We can keep having these... not-dates until then. And if you're never ready, then that's fine too. We'll stay friends, if that's the case.”

Steve frowns at him. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure,” Bucky promises him, flashing him a soft smile as he starts running his thumb along the back of Steve's hand again, a comforting and reassuring touch. “Positive, actually. Didn't I already tell you? You're worth waiting for, Stevie.”

This time, when Steve feels his cheeks start to heat up with a blush, he doesn't look away. Instead he keeps his eyes locked with Bucky's and smiles at him, lets him see the blush that spreads across his cheekbones and ears in blotchy and probably ugly spots.

He doesn't care though. How could he when Bucky just smiles softly back at him and holds his hand a little bit tighter? The squeeze Bucky gives Steve's hand feels like a silent promise; a silent promise that he's not going to let go and Steve's heart warms impossibly more.

They finish their lunch – Steve finishes his fruit salad while Bucky finishes his heart attack coffee – with a completely different topic of conversation and without letting go of each other's hand. Steve feels Bucky's foot press against his own underneath the table partway through and doesn't hesitate to press right back, sharing a smile with him.

When everything but Steve's tea is gone, Jim sticks his head out from the garage and calls out for Bucky to get his ass back to work. Reluctantly, Steve lets go of his hand and stands up. Bucky does the same, a sigh passing his lips and a longing look in his eyes directed at Steve's hand.

Steve blushes a little but ignores it and rolls his eyes instead. “You can hold my hand any other day,” he says and reaches out to flick Bucky's nose. “Dork.”

“I know,” Bucky says and lets out a sigh that sounds wishful. “But it was so nice.”

Steve smiles at him and walks around the table to get to Bucky's side. When Bucky looks at him, a small pout on his lips, Steve reaches out and lightly tugs a lock of hair behind his ear, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone in a gentle caress.

He so desperately wants to lean in and kiss him but he fights the urge.

“Tomorrow,” he says and it's a promise.

Bucky smiles at him and reaches up to wrap his left hand around Steve's. “Tomorrow,” he echoes.

Before he leaves and before Bucky jogs back into the garage to go back to work, Steve lets himself get pulled into a hug. Bucky's arms are strong and tight around him and when Steve buries his face in his neck and breathes in, the smell of oil and sweat and _Bucky_ surrounds him.

They hug a little too tightly and for a few seconds too long but neither of them care. Steve is the first to pull away, reluctantly because he wants nothing but to wrap himself around Bucky and not let go for the rest of the day. And even when they step apart with a smiled goodbye, their hands linger on each other.

As Steve drives away with one last glance toward the garage and toward where Bucky is watching him leave, he feels exhausted but so much lighter, lighter than he's felt in years. Almost like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulder.

A weight _has_ been lifted off of his shoulders, in a way, and Steve smiles to himself despite the exhaustion and sadness lurking around the corner.

♜

The house is quiet and dark aside from the Disney movie playing from the television in the living room, creating both sound and the only light source in the place. It's not that late, the light from the sun still peeking through the shut curtains in the living room but it's going down rapidly and the sky gets darker and darker.

Steve is laying spread out on the couch, leaning against a fluffy pillow that's propped up against the arm. One of his legs is hanging off the edge, socked foot flat against the hardwood floor of the room, and one of his hands is slowly making its way through blonde hair.

Cassidy is laying on top of him, her head resting on his chest and eyes wide and big and almost unblinking as she watches the movie playing intently. Her mouth is slightly agape, her lips moving every now and then like she's reciting the words said in the movie but no sound actually leaves her.

They have been laying there for a good hour or so and Steve hasn't seen a single second of the movie. Now, Disney movies are Steve's favorite and watching them with his daughter is his favorite things to do. Well, okay, anything with his daughter is his favorite thing to do but Disney movie marathons just hold a slightly more special place in his heart.

He loves doing it, wants it to be the last thing he does before he dies, but he just can't get himself to focus. His mind wandered to Bucky and what they talked about earlier the second they sat down and he hasn't been able to pry his thoughts away from that since.

So he lays there, combing his fingers through Cassidy's hair slowly and absently and letting the sound of the movie playing become background noise and the weight of his daughter on top of him become grounding so he doesn't slip away completely.

He's exhausted, seconds from falling asleep or seconds from having a proper breakdown, he's not entire sure, but he's not about to have or do either. Not when it's quality time with his daughter.

Quality time that he spends being not really present, watching his own fingers glide through blonde hair rather than watching the movie Cassidy decided they were going to watch. God, he's a horrible dad, too busy thinking of his fucking ex to pay proper attention to his daughter.

“Daddy?”

Cassidy's voice forcefully pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. Steve blinks once before he focuses on Cassidy's face. She has lifted her head up a little and is now looking up at him with wide eyes, brows furrowed a little and a frown stuck to her lips.

The movie is still playing but neither of them are paying attention to it now.

Steve smiles, a little tired, and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you okay?” she asks.

Steve blinks at her and feels his smile slowly slipping from his lips. He only lets it for a second before he forces it back on, a little softer this time.

“Yeah, Cassie,” he says and wraps his other arm around her. “I'm okay. Daddy just had a rough day.”

Cassidy shifts against him, pulls herself further up, and asks, “Are you sure?”

“You're here now,” he says and pokes her nose, “so I'm more than okay.”

Cassidy looks at him for a calculating moment before she moves, crawling up his body and sitting down on his stomach. She reaches up and places both hands on either of his cheeks, thumbs pressing into the corners of his lips. With a smile on her lips, she pushes back and makes a smile appear on Steve's face.

“That's better,” she says and grins widely down at him.

Steve blinks up at her and, soon enough, the smile she forced becomes real. He laughs, letting the smile grow wider as Cassidy's does the same. They grin widely and toothily at each other and then both start laughing.

Laughter turns to chuckling and chuckling turns back to smiling, and Steve reaches up to grab one of Cassidy's hands from his cheek. He smiles at her and she smiles back.

“Can I get a hug?” he asks. His heart is squeezing with a sudden sadness, his throat tight, but he forces the smile to stay put. If he just focuses on his daughter, he'll be fine. But a hug? Yeah, a hug sounds wonderful.

Cassidy leans down immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face there too. Steve wraps his own arms around her and closes his eyes as he buries his nose in her hair and breathes in.

They squeeze each other and Steve is already feeling a whole lot better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life! <3


	9. Chapter 9

“Cassie, don't run up the stairs!” Steve calls out after his daughter.

Cassidy only makes it a few steps up the stairs before she stops at his raised and stern voice. She turns and looks at him over her shoulder, bottom lip sticking out and eyes big and pleading. Her hand is still gripping tightly at the railing and she still looks more than ready to start bolting again.

“Don't give me that look,” Steve says and walks up to her, brushing a hand through his hair that's wet from the rain outside. “Remember what I told you about running up the stairs?”

Cassidy sighs, defeated, and says, “If I trip, I could hit my head and get hurt badly.”

“Exactly.” Steve wipes his damp palm on his thigh and reaches out with his other and dry hand to grab hers. “Now, come on. I hear there's a dog waiting for you to play with him.”

When they make it to the right floor and find apartment H, Cassidy knocks rapidly on the wooden door for a good ten seconds. She would have continued if it wasn't for the barking and the sound of claws against hardwood floor coming from the other side of the door, the sound making her beam brightly up at Steve and Steve smiles back down at her.

It takes another few seconds before there's a shouted, “It's open!” in Clint's familiar voice. It's followed by something else that's muffled by the door and walls between them.

Before Steve can reach out to grab the handle though, the door swings open to reveal Natasha and Lucky who sits obediently by her side on the other side, his tail wagging wildly at the sight of them and ears perking.

“Clint hasn't learned how to use the pause button yet,” Natasha says, first giving Steve an exasperated look before she looks down at Cassidy and smiles.

Cassidy goes inside immediately, throwing off her jacket and tossing it in Steve's general direction. Steve only catches it because he's expecting it, otherwise he wouldn't have. He gives her a slightly annoyed look but she's already too busy petting Lucky who rolls over onto his back in an open invitation for belly rubs.

Steve shakes his head a little before he steps inside too and lets Natasha close the door behind him. “Everything going okay so far?” he asks and shrugs out of his own jacket, throwing both his and Cassidy's onto the targets stacked in a pile underneath the stairs before he looks further into the place.

Clint is sitting on the couch, a controller in hand, tongue poking out of the corners of his mouth, and eyes glued to the television. He's leaning forward ever so slightly, nearly blocking the view of Adwin sitting next to him in a similar way although instead of his tongue poking out of his mouth, his lips are moving in quiet mutters.

Next to Adwin is Ayanna. She's not sitting but is instead standing and bouncing a little in place while tilting her controller from side to side rapidly. And next to her sits Bucky, leaned back against the cushions with a soft smile on his lips and controller held in his right hand.

Steve's eyes linger on him for a moment, drinking him in.

Bucky's hair is pulled up in a bun, a few hairs having fallen out and are currently framing his face beautifully. His short sleeved tee shirt sits tight over his chest and his socked feet (either those are polka dots or they're stars, Steve can't tell) are propped up on the coffee table.

On the coffee table where his prosthetic arm is resting too. Steve bites back a snort at the image and turns to Natasha instead.

“As okay as you'd expect,” Natasha says with a half shrug. “Clint thinks the only way to entertain kids is with video games.”

“And you're no better, I know.”

Natasha smacks his chest and gives him a look.

“What?” Steve raises a brow. “You and I both know you're not. Which is why you bribed me into helping you.”

“And why I asked Bucky too,” Natasha says, giving in with a sigh.

“Asked,” Steve repeats mockingly. “Is that what we're calling bribing now?”

“Can it, Rogers,” Natasha says. “I did only ask Bucky. Surprisingly he was more than willing to help out. Turns out he really does love kids.”

Steve looks over at them just in time to see both Adwin and Clint groaning while Ayanna cheers and Bucky offers her a high five and grins widely at her. Steve finds himself smiling softly at them, his heart growing warm when he watches Cassidy come bouncing over to them and watches as Bucky's face brightens and then softens immediately.

Bucky looks over in his direction and when their eyes meet, Steve's smile widens. Bucky raises his hand in greeting – well, he raises his controller – and Steve lifts his hand in a silent greeting back.

A finger pokes at his side and Steve looks back at Natasha. She's grinning widely at him, her eyes wide and curious and yet somehow still knowing. Damn her.

“What is that look on your face about?” she asks, still poking at the meat of his side. “Did something happen between you two?”

Steve swats her hand away and groans, “Nat–”

“I introduced you,” Natasha interrupts him and slaps his hand back. “You have to tell me everything.”

“That's not a rule.”

“Oh, you haven't read the best friend rule book yet?”

“You mean the one Sam gifted me in high school, years before I met you? Yeah, I read it. I'm fucking fluent in it.”

Natasha smacks his arm. “I'm your best friend too and you know it.”

“Hmm,” Steve hums and looks at her through narrowed eyes, giving her a look of uncertainty. “I don't know about that.”

“Yes, you do. And I'm gonna make you tell me what happened between you and Bucky whether you like it or not.”

Steve's teasing grin slips from his lips a little. He looks at her for a moment then glances over at where Cassidy is stood between Bucky's legs, controller in hand and cheering as she plays instead of Bucky.

Bucky is already looking back at him, the hard features smoothed out into a soft smile in a second. Steve smiles back at him, his smile a little forced because he can still feel Natasha's curious and waiting gaze on him.

There's no way she's going to let him not explain so, with a sigh, he grabs onto her arm and drags her with him into the kitchen area. It's not closed in, nothing in Clint's apartment is except for his bedroom and the bathroom, but it gives them a little bit of privacy thanks to the bookcase that's between there and the couch.

“I told him about Peggy,” Steve says, his back turned to the others and eyes on Natasha.

“And?” Natasha prompts and leans against the counter opposite him.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh and says, “He told me we won't do anything until I'm ready for it.”

“Good man,” Natasha says, a smile on her lips. It slips away quickly though and is replaced by a look of near concern that's directed at Steve. “Are you though? Ready, I mean.”

“I don't know,” Steve tells her after a beat. “To be honest with you, I don't know what being ready actually feels like. I'm still scared shitless and want to puke my guts out whenever I even think about putting myself out there and dating.”

“But you like him,” Natasha continues for him when he hesitates.

Steve looks at her for a moment, a soft smile slowly forming on his lips. “I like him a whole fucking lot, Nat,” he lets out in a breath and it's a relief to say it out loud. “He just makes me feel,” he trails off with a shrug.

“Like you're worth it,” Natasha fills in, her voice soft as she smiles. “Like you've got a safe place to land.”

“Yeah,” Steve says in a near whisper. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

“I know. That's how Clint makes me feel. I didn't think I was ready for a relationship either and I denied myself that kind of happiness for a long time. He did too, you know how he is. He's got commitment issues and I'm not good with love. But look at us now. We jumped and the world didn't end.”

Steve lets out a sigh and crosses his arms, looking down at his feet.

“It won't be easy,” Natasha continues. “Love never is, just ask Sam and T'Challa.”

“Not right now,” Steve cuts in in a mumble. “They're probably busy fucking each other's brains out.”

“Obviously. Why else would they ask us to babysit their kids?”

“Anniversary dinner.”

“That's just code for marathon sex.”

Steve hums in agreement and says, “I bet they're being all gross and romantic with it, too.”

Natasha smacks the side of his head and Steve snaps his eyes up from the floor to give her an offended look.

“Ow,” he says flatly.

“Stop thinking about your best friend and his husband fucking,” she says. “We were talking about you and Bucky.”

“Actually, we were talking about you and Clint.”

Natasha gives him a deadpan look. “It's like you're asking me to punch you.”

“Fight me, Romanoff.”

“Assaulting a federal officer is illegal, Steve. Don't make me arrest you.” She grins. “Again.”

Steve rolls his eyes but holds his hands up in defeat.

“Good,” Natasha says and pats his cheek. “Now, let's get back to you and Bucky.”

Steve exhales sharply through his nose and looks down at his feet. He's silent for a moment before he asks, “So, you're saying I should just jump?”

“Yes,” Natasha says. “If you think he's worth it, you should dive head first into it. What's the worst that could happen?”

“I could end up with my heart broken again and become a shit dad.”

“No, the worst thing that could happen is the world ending. You can get past everything else but not that. But it won't end just because you let yourself have a little bit of happiness. Trust me.”

With a small smile forming on his lips, Steve lifts his gaze from the floor and looks at her. “You know, I never pictured you as someone I would come to for love advice,” he says. “Always figured that would be Sam.”

“Obviously I'm a better friend than he is,” Natasha says and brushes her hair off her shoulder with a sniff.

Steve laughs and shakes his head fondly at her. Whatever he's going to say next is quickly swallowed and held back when, out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Bucky come walking over toward them. He turns to him and puts on a smile. Bucky smiles back, right hand holding onto his prosthetic now attached again, the fingers wiggling slowly and carefully.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greets him. He pointedly ignores the knowing look Natasha is giving him.

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky greets back and leans his hip against the kitchen counter. “Your kid stole my spot in the SpeedRunners tournament.”

“Were you winning?” Steve asks and moves a step closer to him.

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah, Ayanna's got first place locked down. I was holding a pretty decent third place.”

Steve scoffs. “Not a good steal then,” he says teasingly.

Natasha snickers and Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “I'd like to see you do better then, punk. Those kids are vicious.”

“You counting Clint too?” Steve asks.

“Steve isn't allowed to play video games anymore,” Natasha says at the same time.

Steve rolls his eyes at her and grumbles a few curse words under his breath.

“Why not?” Bucky asks, both looking and sounding highly amused.

“Because Natasha is a fucking asshole,” Steve says but he's ignored.

“You see that?” Natasha points over to the framed picture of Panther hanging above the television, off-center and looking out of place. “That used to be packed away in a box upstairs. Now it hangs there to cover the hole Steve made after he threw a controller through the wall because he's a giant baby and a sour loser.”

Steve groans and hangs his head, burying his face in the palms of his hands and silently cursing Natasha to the high heavens. He does find himself smiling a little when Bucky laughs loudly and brightly though.

♜

When dinner time starts nearing and the kids start complaining about being hungry, Clint immediately launches for the laptop to order pizza. Steve stops him before he can so much as even open a browser though, determined to make them something proper to eat. But then he takes one look at the empty fridge and gives in to the pleading eyes – Clint, all three kids, and even Bucky – looking at him when he turns back around.

So pizza it is and a movie is put on while eating it, Ayanna and Cassidy sitting on the floor with pillows and blankets laid out under them while Adwin launches on the couch with Natasha. Clint opts to sit by the kitchen counter, switching between feeding himself and tossing bits and pieces to Lucky who jumps to catch every single one.

Steve sits himself at the bottom of the stairs, a plate of three slices in his lap, and watches the kids rather than the movie. Bucky sits himself next to him, smiling as he bumps their shoulders together and presses their thighs close together even though there's plenty of room.

Steve doesn't mind and simply just presses back, loving the closeness and itching for more.

After the pizzas have been eaten with only a half to be put away for leftovers and after the movie is finished, Clint and Adwin take Lucky for a walk and Ayanna and Cassidy drag Bucky over to the couch. Bucky goes willingly, sharing a quick and amused smile with Steve as he lets himself be dragged.

They make him sit on the carpet laid out in front of the couch, cross-legged and leaning against the cushions propped up there, and the two of them jump onto the couch behind him. Steve only has to glance at the hair accessories laid out to know what's happening and, with a grin on his lips, he signals to Bucky to take his hair down.

Bucky gives him a questioning look for all of one second before it clicks. His face brightens and the smile that spreads onto his lips is delighted and toothy. He reaches up to untie the hair tie keeping his hair in a bun and shakes it loose.

“Make me look pretty, girls,” he says and leans back, making himself comfortable.

Neither Cassidy nor Ayanna hesitate to start playing with Bucky's hair, Ayanna brushing it carefully while Cassidy just sticks a decorative hairpin in, and Steve watches them with a fond smile firmly on his lips. He desperately wishes he could film this or take a million pictures or draw it or any other way to immortalize it but he can't get himself to look away.

He's so caught up in watching them, committing the image to memory, that he doesn't even notice Natasha coming over to stand next to him until she speaks up.

“They seem to be getting along nicely,” she says, her voice fond.

Steve tears his eyes away from them for just a second to glance at her. She's standing with her hip leaning against the stairs, her arms crossed and a soft smile on her lips while her eyes are glued to the girls playing with Bucky's hair which Bucky is happily letting them do, picking out the hairpins and hair ties when they ask him to.

“Yeah,” Steve says and looks back at them, his heart warming at the sight of Bucky smiling up at Cassidy and Cassidy grinning back. “They do.”

He could get used to this, he thinks. He could get used to seeing Bucky and Cassidy together. Bucky is so good with her, that much is obvious with how bright Cassidy's smile and with the look of pure joy that seems permanent on her face as she braids a handful of Bucky's hair into a messy braid.

Maybe it's partly because Ayanna is sitting right next to her and doing the same thing, but Steve knows that Bucky has something to do with it too.

And that thought has him wanting to ignore the nausea and dive in head first.

A slap on his shoulder and a hand wrapping around his bicep and tugging brings him back out of his thoughts and he turns to see Natasha pulling at him.

“Come on, you old sap,” she says and smiles crookedly but softly at him. “Help me with the dishes.”

Rolling his eyes and sighing, Steve lets Natasha drag him with her to the kitchen area. With his sleeves rolled up to above his elbows and his hands wet with soap and water and wrapped around dirty plates, he finds himself looking back over at the three of them.

Maybe, he thinks as he absently hands Natasha a plate to dry, his eyes locked onto where Cassidy and Ayanna are laughing at something Bucky said, Bucky looking pleased with himself.

Maybe Steve can look past the fear and jump.

Yeah, maybe.

Bucky laughs, his face softening even more, and Steve's heart just about bursts out of his chest.

Scratch that: definitely.

♜

Shortly after Adwin and Clint and a tired Lucky return from their walk, Cassidy starts yawning and Steve decides it's about time to head home. Bucky, with his hair done in messy braids and decorated with a handful of colorful hairpins, announces he's leaving too just as Steve manages to get Cassidy in her shoes.

They go out the door together after saying goodbye and Steve has a strange feeling of domesticity because of it. It feels nice, walking out the door with Cassidy in hand and Bucky a mere two steps beside him.

For just a flash of a second, Steve can see the three of them as a family. It both scares the shit out of him and makes him feel at peace.

After getting Cassidy into her seat in the back of the car, Steve closes the door and steps over to where Bucky is leaning against the side of Clint's building, hands in his pockets and hair still looking stupidly adorable.

“So,” Steve starts and doesn't continue. The words die in his throat, nerves killing them before they can do more than make his lips form in the beginning of one.

“So?” Bucky repeats encouragingly and looks at him curiously and expectantly.

Steve sucks in a deep breath and takes the leap.

“You wanna go out sometime?” he asks and ignores his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.

Bucky looks around them briefly when his eyes return to Steve, there's a teasing grin on his lips. “We're already out.”

“On a date,” Steve says before he can find a reason to back out.

Bucky's teasing grin instantly slips away. “You serious?” he asks in a breath.

“Dead serious.”

A beat of silence passes them, the wind rustling around them. There are still a few raindrops falling from the darkening sky above them but it's a lot less than earlier. The silence drags on for what feels like forever for Steve even though it's probably only a couple of seconds. But then the teasing grin on Bucky's lips is replaced by a soft smile.

“I'd love to,” Bucky says and steps forward.

With a relieved smile on his lips, Steve meets him halfway and wraps his arms around him in a hug. He closes his eyes and buries his face in the crook of Bucky's neck, smiling against the warm skin there and breathing him in.

He took the leap and the world didn't end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life! <3


	10. Chapter 10

“What about a classic dinner and a movie?” Steve suggests while dragging the tip of the pen across the tablet laid out in front of him.

The house is relatively quiet outside of his office space. Cassidy is in her room and occasionally he can hear her puttering around in there or walking up and down the hallway or flushing the toilet.

Dinner finished a couple of hours ago and Steve left Cassidy to entertain herself while he does some work, leaving the door to his office open in case she needs him anyway. Bucky called partway through and Steve decided he could multitask.

“No,” Bucky says with a snort. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

“The hell's wrong with dinner and a movie?” Steve asks around a laugh.

“It's boring, Steve. I ain't having our first official date be _boring_ , c'mon.”

“Fine.” Steve sighs and shakes his head, switching to a red color with a few taps. “What do you suggest, then?”

Bucky hums on the other end. “How do you feel about skydiving?”

“Did it once, forgot the parachute.”

A beat of silence then Bucks asks, “Are you fucking with me?”

“Nope,” Steve says and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Sam still yells at me about it to this day even though it was, like, ten years ago.”

“As he should,” Bucky says and shit, he sounds angry. “What the fuck, Steve? How the fucking hell do you forget your goddamn parachute?”

Steve lifts a shoulder in a shrug, although Bucky can't see it, and says, “It happens.”

“It really fucking doesn't, you goddamn idiot.”

“Hey, nothing happened. I just sprained my ankle, I was fine.”

Bucky sighs on the other end and it sounds almost exasperated. “You're gonna have to tell me the whole story one day,” he says. “And I'm never fucking taking you anywhere without triple checking everything so you don't go hurt yourself.”

“I'm thirty-five, Buck,” Steve reminds him. “ _And_ a dad. I can handle myself, thank you.”

“You're a disaster, Stevie,” Bucky says and Steve rolls his eyes. “I'm gonna have to take care of your ass for the rest of my life 'cause you obviously have no fucking idea how to do it.”

Steve ignores the warmth rising to his cheeks and says, carefully flat with a hint of teasing, “How 'bout we get through a couple of dates before you go proposing to me?”

“A couple meaning just two, right?” Bucky asks and Steve can hear the teasing yet fond grin in his voice. “'Cause I'm not sure I can keep myself from dropping to my knees and popping the question after that.”

Steve chuckles, ducking his head and shaking it as he smiles down at where his hand has stilled atop of his tablet with the half finished project. He opens his mouth to say something – what, he's not entirely sure of – but, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a figure standing in the doorway that cuts him off.

He lifts and turns his head, smiling when he sees Cassidy walking into the room, her feet socked and silent over the hardwood floor. She's got a hand curled into a fist rubbing her eye and her mouth drops open in a yawn.

Instantly, Steve rolls his chair back a little and holds out his arm in a silent invitation that she takes without thought, climbing into his lap and leaning heavily against his chest.

“Hey, sweetie,” he says and bends down to kiss the top of her head.

“Hi,” Cassidy says. She tilts her head back enough to look up at him, her eyes quickly shifting to the phone that's still pressed against Steve's ear. “Who are you talking to?”

“Bucky,” Steve says. “You wanna say hi?”

Cassidy hums and leans heavily against him again, her eyes closing slowly as she brings her legs up onto his lap as well. “Maybe later,” she says but gets cut off by a yawn before she can finish.

Steve smiles down at her and wraps his arm around her. “Okay, Cassie,” he whispers against the top of her head, then turns his attention back to Bucky. “Buck. You still there?”

“Yeah,” comes the answer from the other end of the line, Bucky's voice soft. “I'm here.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, “for the interruption. I think someone needs to be put to bed.”

“Nooo,” Cassidy whines in protest, instantly going rag doll against him.

“Yes,” Steve says, sternly but unable to keep the smile off his lips. “Don't fight me, Cassie.”

Cassidy whines against him and stays laid out on top of him, not moving and not opening her eyes either, her nose scrunched into a grimace. Steve boops her nose and smiles at the sound of Bucky chuckling in his ear.

“You go be a dad and put that one to sleep,” Bucky says. “I'll figure out something fun for us to do on our first official date.”

“Just no skydiving,” Steve says and stands up, wrapping his arm tighter around Cassidy to pick her up as he does. She continues to stay rag dolled against him, whining as he moves, and he rolls his eyes at her.

“You're fucking insane if you think I'm taking you anywhere near skydiving,” Bucky says. “I'm not letting you touch it ever again, Steve. Forget it.”

“Fight me, Barnes,” Steve says and walks into the hallway with Cassidy under his arm.

“Oh, I damn well will fight you, Rogers,” Bucky says, laughing. “But not on our first date. That's gonna be fun and nowhere near anything dangerous.”

“Now where's the fun in that?” Steve asks and walks into Cassidy's room, putting her down on the bed. “Put on your pajamas, Cassie.”

“It's in you not dying and getting to kiss me goodnight at the end,” Bucky says in his ear.

Blushing, Steve ducks his head and smiles down at his bare feet. He has been thinking about kissing Bucky for a long time now and knowing Bucky has thought about kissing him too, well... it only makes Steve look forward to their date even more than he already did.

He still feels nauseated by the mere thought of starting a relationship and the potentiality of another heart break, but the nausea becomes less and less the more he talks to Bucky.

He can do this, he keeps telling himself. And a part of him is starting to believe it.

“Okay,” Steve says into the phone and glances at where Cassidy is stepping into her pajama bottoms. “Nothing dangerous, then.”

“You can count on that,” Bucky says in a mock stern voice. “Anyway, I'm gonna squeeze my brain for something fun for us to do and you go take care of your daughter, alright?”

“Okay,” Steve repeats. “Night, Buck.”

“Goodnight, Stevie,” Bucky says and then hangs up before either of them can say more.

Steve locks his phone and lets it slide into the pocket of his sweats before he holds out his hand to a waiting Cassidy, now dressed in her pajamas. Cassidy grabs it and instantly starts climbing him. He lets her, carrying her back out of her room and down the hall toward the bathroom.

Steve ends up laying in her bed with Cassidy cuddling against his side, her head rested on his chest, and reading to her for a long while after she's fallen into a peaceful and sound sleep.

♜

The days leading up to the date are excruciating.

Bucky refuses to tell him anything about what they're going to do, insists on it being a surprise for the day itself. And every time Steve asks, _begs_ , him to give him even the tiniest of hints, Bucky winks at him (either face to face or over text) and Steve hates him a little bit.

Time moves slower than normal on the days leading up to it, too. Steve finds himself becoming restless when he has neither Cassidy or his friends to distract him from anything to do with his date with Bucky. So he ends up going for longer and longer runs to hopefully make himself a little less restless.

It doesn't work. Time is still moving excruciatingly slow and Steve kinda wants to punch every clock in the house.

He doesn't, of course. But it's a damn close call a handful of times.

The day finally arrives and Steve spends way too long on getting ready, fidgeting with his hair even though it's short and only really has two styles; messy or slightly less messy. It doesn't matter anyway because Cassidy rubs her hands in it only minutes later and he finds himself not caring, too busy smiling as he tickles her.

Despite having waited around for time to move faster, Steve still leaves the house a few minutes too late. He knows Bucky knows about his being on time problem, knows that Bucky would be understanding but still give him shit for it. He knows that and he still beats himself up for it because he has been waiting around restlessly for days and he still can't leave on time.

Idiot, thy name is Steve Rogers.

He drops Cassidy off at the Wilsons' and doesn't stick around long enough to hear anything Sam says. Ignoring every word that's called out after him, Steve flips Sam off and drives off before he can be even more late than he already is.

And before he knows it, Steve is standing by Bucky's apartment building, leaning against the side of his car as casually as he can with his nerves and excitement making it hard to stand still, and texting Bucky to let him know to come down.

The time it takes for Bucky to come down can't be more than three minutes but, to Steve, it feels like an eternity. A long and excruciating eternity. But then the door to the building opens and Steve stops thinking about time altogether.

Bucky looks nothing short of stunning. His hair hangs loose just short of his shoulders, slicked back and out of his face. The shirt he's wearing is a simple black with something printed across the chest. Steve can't see what but he does recognize the rainbow color scheme and from there, it doesn't take much guessing to figure out what it probably is.

Over the shirt and obscuring the prideful print, Bucky wears an unzipped bomber jacket. It's dark blue, the sleeves rolled up to above his elbows to show a hair tie wrapped around his right wrist and to show off his metallic prosthetic, unashamed and in no need to hide it.

His jeans, a dark blue to match the jacket, sit snug around his thighs, a little looser around his calves, and disappear into the same pair of boots that he wore on their first not-date. They still look either clean or newly washed.

Bucky has made an effort yet looks effortlessly stunning, and Steve's breath gets knocked right out of him.

“Wow,” Steve lets out in a breath when he finally finds his voice, his eyes still drinking in the view headed toward him.

“Thank you,” Bucky says and smiles smugly at him, a light pink color tinting his cheekbones. He comes to a stop with a few steps between them and his eyes wander over Steve's body slowly, obviously checking him out. “You're not so bad yourself.”

Steve knows he's gaping, can feel his lips become slightly chapped from the wind blowing around them and from his own breathing. He can't get himself to close his mouth though, can't get himself to tear his eyes away from Bucky either.

Bucky is always beautiful, always stunning, but now? Now it's different.

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Steve says, his voice lowered and cheeks heating at the blurted words.

Bucky's eyes darken ever so slightly and he steps forward until there's barely a step between them. Steve's eyes drop to his lips, staring shamelessly and desperately wanting to lean in and kiss him.

But Bucky stays away, right hand on Steve's chest to keep him from leaning forward too.

“Later,” Bucky promises in a whisper. “Fun date first. Kiss later.”

Steve lets out an honest to god whimper, slumping against the car when Bucky raises his hand from his chest to his cheek and pats a few times. His fingers linger against the beard Steve spend ages trimming and combing, and Steve licks his lips when he notices Bucky staring.

“Lots of kissing,” Bucky adds, almost like an after thought. His eyes linger on Steve's lips for a second before they're back on Steve's and he smirks. “Later.”

“You're a fucking tease,” Steve tells him with a groan.

Bucky winks at him and laughs as he steps around him and gets in the car's passenger seat without any sort of retort. Steve takes a moment to breathe, calming himself, before he follows him into the car.

“So,” Steve says as he straps himself in, turning on the car and driving down the street. “Where are we heading?”

“Wythe Ave,” Bucky says and gives him a private smile. “Sixty-first.”

Steve keeps his eyes on the road ahead, face scrunching in thought. The address sounds familiar and it takes him a minute to realize why. Slowly, a smile grows onto his lips. He hasn't been there in ages. He suspects, just a little, that Bucky might have asked Natasha for help. After all, she's the one who showed him that place years ago.

“Seriously?” He shoots a glance at Bucky. “You're taking me bowling?”

“Yep,” Bucky says, popping the p. “I said nothing dangerous but still fun. Bowling's that.” He pauses for a beat, then looks out the window and continues. “Also, Nat told me you used to love bowling, so ya know.”

Steve smiles, pleased that he was right and happy that Bucky was so thoughtful.

“Well, I do love bowling,” he says in a lowered, soft voice. “Although the only bowling I've done since having Cassidy has been the Wii kind.”

“Hey, don't shame the Wii sports,” Bucky says. “Those are legitimate work outs.”

Steve groans and says, “Shut up, you sound just like Clint.”

“Well, guy's got a point.”

“He does not.”

“Have you ever played competitive Wii sports?”

“I have a daughter, Buck. Of course I have.”

“Then you know damn well Clint's got a point. It's a legitimate work out.”

Steve rolls his eyes briefly and shakes his head. “Whatever you say, Bucky.”

“Anyway,” Bucky says and reaches over to pat Steve's thigh, his fingers lingering for a second. “There's another reason I decided to go with bowling.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks and glances curiously at him. He fears the worst when he sees the teasing grin that plays on Bucky's lips. And the worst is what he gets.

“Yeah,” Bucky says and waggles his brows. “I wanna see how you handle your balls.”

Steve directs his deadpan stare at the stoplight that turns red ahead of them, not bothering to give Bucky one despite the car not currently moving. Beside him, Bucky is snorting and chuckling to himself like a child.

“You know, I could just kick you out of this car right now,” Steve threatens.

“Oh, come on,” Bucky says and reaches over to poke him, metal finger digging into his shoulder. “Loosen up a little, Stevie. Admit it, it was funny.”

It wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all–

Steve's lips twitches and Bucky's finger is immediately poking at the corner of them.

“Ah-ha!” he exclaims and chuckles when Steve swats his hand away.

“It wasn't funny,” Steve insists and starts driving when the light turns green.

“You're right, it wasn't. It was fucking hilarious and, frankly, I'm offended you didn't laugh. This is a first date, Steve. You're supposed to laugh at all my shitty jokes.”

“I value honesty,” Steve says dryly. “And I don't laugh at shitty jokes, no matter how much I like you.”

“What if I told you that laughing at my shitty jokes could make me let you kiss me sooner?”

Steve pauses, glances at Bucky, looks back out on the road. “You make a convincing argument.”

Bucky grins widely at him and when he spits out another shitty joke that is somehow a hundred times worse than the one before, Steve lets himself laugh.

♜

“You know what I realized?” Steve asks before biting into a cheesy nacho chip.

The bowling alley is full so when they arrived, looking to get themselves a lane, they were told to wait a few minutes until one becomes available. That was fifteen minutes ago and, five minutes ago, Bucky went to get them some nachos. Currently they're standing around a table, chatting and waiting for a lane.

“What's that?” Bucky asks around his own mouthful of nachos, grinning when Steve gives him a pointed look to silently tell him he's disgusting.

Steve rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and moves on. “I don't know anything about your family,” he says and rests his forearms on the table, leaning forward and grabbing a small handful of chips.

Bucky licks his lips – Steve's eyes drop to follow the movement and he doesn't bother hiding it – and leans forward against the table as well, head cocking slightly and a smile on his lips as he looks at Steve.

“What do you wanna know?” he asks. “I'm an open book.”

Steve raises a disbelieving brow at him.

“Alright,” Bucky says with a shrug. “For you, I'm an open book.”

Steve smiles at him and asks, “You got any siblings?”

“One,” Bucky says. “Rebecca. Or, well, I call her Becca.”

“Becca and Bucky, huh?” Steve can't help the amused smile that spreads across his lips.

“Yeah, we're quite the pair,” Bucky chuckles. “She's not just my sister though. She's my best friend too.”

Steve's smile turns soft. “That sounds real nice, Buck.”

“Yeah, it's alright,” Bucky says and lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “What about you? Any siblings?”

“Nah,” Steve says and shakes his head. “I'm an only child.”

Bucky huffs and murmurs, “Lucky.”

Steve furrows his brows. “Wait, didn't you just say your sister's your best friend?”

“She's a fucking pain in my ass, is what she is.”

Steve blinks. “I'm confused.”

“Alright.” Bucky shifts a little. “You know how Sam and Nat are always up in your ass, teasing you and making life a living hell for you, but you still love them with everything you've got?”

Steve rolls his eyes but nods.

“It's kinda like that,” Bucky says and makes a quick movement with his left hand. “Except ten times worse because Becca's been there through _all_ my weird ass phases and has made it her life mission to make fun of me for each and every single one of them for the rest of my life.”

The smile that grows on Steve's lips is downright gleeful as he leans forward, chin resting in his hand and eyes firmly on Bucky. “What kinda phases?” he asks.

“Fuck no,” Bucky says and shakes his head. “I ain't telling you shit about any of them.”

“Oh, come on!” Steve complains. “It can't be that bad.”

“It is that bad.”

“I had a punk phase during my late teens, it can't be worse than that.”

“A punk phase?” It's Bucky's turn to look gleeful. “Sounds hot.”

Steve cringes. “Not when you're a skinny twig and everything looks ridiculously big on you.”

Bucky's brows fly up. “You?” he asks, pointing. “Skinny? I'm finding that hard to believe.”

“Trust me,” Steve says with a chuckle. “I was all skin and bones until I was in my twenties.”

“Wow.” Bucky stands back a little, a delighted smile on his lips as he looks at Steve silently for a good minute or so. “You gotta show me pictures of that sometime.”

“I'll show you pictures,” Steve says and reaches for a cheese filled chips, “if you tell me about those phases you went through. Or better yet, show me pictures of them. I think that's only fair if you get to see my skinny, punk ass.”

Bucky shakes his head, his smile almost fond, and says, “You're such a sneaky fuck, Rogers.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Steve says and grins.

“Alright.” Bucky chuckles but before he can say more, a group of people come walking away from the lanes and a staff member comes over to let them know a lane is available for them if they want it.

“You owe me so many stories, Barnes,” Steve says and grabs the basket of nacho chips to take them with them to the lane.

“Sure thing, pal,” Bucky says and reaches over to clasp his right hand on Steve's shoulder. His hand slides down his arm soon after though, down until it slides into Steve's hand, and Steve doesn't think twice before grabbing it back. “But first, I'm gonna kick your ass and show you how I handle my balls.”

With a chuckle, Steve shakes his head fondly and lets himself get dragged by the hand to the lane.

♜

Bucky, Steve learns quickly, is just as competitive as he is. A little less loud about it – Steve swears loudly whenever he misses the pins or whenever Bucky hits _another_ strike, while Bucky just flips him off and mutters a string of insults that Steve, more often than not, can't hear but always makes him feel smug – but still, just as competitive.

Bucky's bomber jacket comes off sometime during their first game and Steve has a hard time looking anywhere but at his biceps bulging whenever he picks up his ball. He's not being very subtle about it either. Bucky seems to notice immediately and sends him a smug smirk while flexing obnoxiously and waggling his brows at him.

Steve blushes and rolls his eyes but finds himself chuckling anyway.

Bucky keeps showing off, putting his ass out more than necessary while lining up his shot and flexing way more than necessary when he grabs a new ball, and Steve shamelessly looks and keeps blushing whenever Bucky gives him a knowing look.

Steve gets so pulled out of his head – led into a bubble by Bucky's hand where it's just the two of them and no one else – that he only checks his phone that's resting on their table a handful of times. There's only a few teasing messages from Natasha that he decides to ignore and nothing else.

At least, that is, until he checks the fifth time and sees a message from Sam.

The second he sees it, his heart drops to his stomach and suddenly it's just him, his brain, and a million scenarios of something horrible in that little bubble. No Bucky, no flirty chatter between them, no lingering touches, no urges to kiss his date, nothing but the worst case scenario.

Swallowing thickly past the lump in his throat and not hearing whatever Bucky's saying to him, Steve opens the message and instantly lets out a breath of relief, relaxing as he looks down at the message.

> **[** 06:28 PM **] Sam** : hope it's going well. things are a ok here [ _image attached_ ]

The picture, when he clicks on it, makes a soft and fond smile appear on his lips in a split second. It's of Cassidy and Ayanna, laying on their stomachs on Ayanna's bed with toys spread out behind them and Panther laying belly up in front of them, looking peaceful and happy as the girls' hands scratch and pet under her chin.

It's not until Steve looks at his daughter that he realizes just how much he misses her. They've only been apart for a few hours but he always misses her. Bucky has made him forget that, for just a little while. Bucky has made him feel good and happy and like he's where he belongs, something that usually only Cassidy can do.

“Steve,” Bucky's voice says again and Steve looks up, sees him looking at him with worry in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says and his soft smile grows a little wider. Without another word, he turns his phone around and shows the picture to Bucky.

Bucky looks at it and his face is free of concern and worry instantly and is instead filled with softness. “They look like they're having fun,” he comments and gives the screen a lingering look before he looks back at Steve.

Steve nods, locks his phone, and puts it back on the table. “Yeah, they're good together,” he says and eyes their lane briefly, watching as the pins are slowly put back up.

A silence falls over them. It's not tense, not awkward. It's just comfortable.

Bucky is the one to break it.

“You know, I've been doing some thinking,” he starts and Steve turns to look at him.

“Don't hurt yourself,” he says teasingly in hopes to remove the frown that has appeared on Bucky's face.

“I've been doing some thinking,” Bucky repeats, firmer this time, and shoves at him, “and I wanna tell you what happened.”

Steve furrows his brows and looks at him, a silent question asked. Bucky glances downward, Steve's eyes follow and land on where Bucky's prosthetic arm is resting on the surface.

“Buck,” Steve says and looks back up at him. “You don't have to–”

“I know,” Bucky interrupts. “I want to. I thought, since you told me about Peggy, I can tell you about this. And if you can dive head first into dating even though it scares you, I can dive head first into telling you this even though I don't really like talking about it.”

Steve looks at him for a moment before he reaches over and grabs onto his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“It was a mine,” Bucky starts after a long minute of nothing.

“A mine?”

“Yeah. I was in the army and on my first tour overseas, a mine blew up my hand and infected the rest of my forearm so it had to get amputated. I don't wanna go into the gory details 'cause honestly? I don't really remember all of it even though I've gone through countless therapy sessions trying to work through it.”

Steve squeezes his hand, rubs his thumb over the back, and says, “Buck, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Bucky says and smiles at him. “It was a fucking tough year after I came home but I got myself a cool ass prosthetic and a good job. Actually, most of the guys at the garage were in the army too.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky nods and says, “Yeah, Jim and Gabe were in my unit and they got me a job interview there. Not a lot of places wanna hire a disabled veteran who hates people and freaks out in big crowds. But Dum Dum didn't care and hired me on the spot.”

“Dum Dum?” Steve asks, confused. He doesn't remember anyone named Dum Dum.

“Tim,” Bucky explains and chuckles. “It's what me and the guys call him. He fucking hates it.”

Steve laughs, still rubbing at Bucky's hand absently. “So you're all a bunch of assholes.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Bucky says and laughs too.

Steve's laughter dies down a minute later and he hesitates for only a moment before he speaks. “You know I don't care, right? About your arm, I mean. Doesn't change a thing for me.”

“I know,” Bucky says and smiles softly. “You treat my left hand like you treat my right, I've noticed. You've been holding my left hand for the past five minutes and touching it even though I can't feel any of it.”

Steve blushes a little and glances down at where his thumb now stills over the metallic back of Bucky's hand.

“It's nice,” Bucky continues softly. “I'd rather you hold my right hand so I can actually feel it but I like it. I like that you're not afraid of it.”

“Why would I be?” Steve asks and reaches over to grab Bucky's right hand without letting go of his left. “Way I see it, it's just another part of you and I'm pretty sure you've noticed that I happen to like you. A lot. All of you.”

Bucky looks at him for a long, long moment before his face scrunches up and he groans. “Damn it,” he says. “I hate that I said we'd kiss later 'cause I really, really wanna kiss you right now.”

“Do it,” Steve says immediately and takes a step closer to him, squeezing his hands and only sparing a glance to the men giving them looks from a few lanes over. “I dare you.”

Bucky glances over at them too before he moves forward, eyes on Steve and tugging him closer by where their hands are clasped together. For a moment, as Bucky leans forward, Steve really thinks this is it; this is when they're going to kiss for the first time.

But in the last second, Bucky shifts ever so slightly and kisses his cheek instead of his lips.

“Nope!” he says and steps away, letting go of Steve's hands and sending him a wide grin while walking over toward the bowling balls. “I'm gonna beat your ass in bowling first.”

Steve blinks a few times, slightly dazed because of the near kiss and because of the feeling of Bucky's lips against his cheek. But eventually, he pulls himself out of it and flips Bucky off, unable to contain the happy smile that forms on his lips.

“You're on, Barnes.”

♜

Bucky wins the first and the second game by a handful of points each time. Steve, being the sour loser that he is, feels the urge to punch something both times. But each time, Bucky steps over, grabs his hand for a squeeze, and kisses his cheek before pulling back to smile blindingly bright at him.

Steve forgets all about his loss and counts it as a win instead, just because he gets to see that look on Bucky's face twice.

They leave the bowling alley after handing in their shoes and the minute they're out, Bucky reaches over and grabs Steve's hand and Steve doesn't hesitate to lace their fingers together, squeezing and sharing a smile with him. Neither of them let go as they walk to the car. Only when they make it there do they let go.

The drive back to Bucky's apartment building is spend in casual chitchat with only one stop on the way; a juice shop where Steve gets them both a healthy smoothie since neither of them thought to go anywhere for dinner and now it's too late for it anyway.

“If I had to eat a burger on our first not-date,” Steve says as he hands Bucky one, “then you have to eat something healthy on our first official date.”

Bucky makes a face at him but takes the smoothie anyway. “You're lucky I like you,” he says and reluctantly takes a hesitant sip. He pauses then sighs and sends Steve a halfhearted glare. “This is fucking delicious and I hate that.”

“You're welcome,” Steve says smugly and takes a long sip of his own smoothie before setting it down and driving off.

The closer they get to Bucky's home, the more... for the lack of a better word, _dull_ Steve feels. The date is almost over and the longer they drive, the closer they get to the finish line, the more he realizes he doesn't want it to end.

After being terrified of dating ever again for so long, Steve thought that going through a date would be the most horrible thing and that he would spend most of the time hating how slow time moved or that he would wish for the end of it.

That's not the case with Bucky. Quite the opposite, actually. Bucky continuously proves him wrong in so many ways and Steve never wants to be apart from him. He has never wanted to be wrong for the rest of his life as badly as he does now, parking in front of the building and following Bucky up the stairs leading to his apartment.

Steve wants to reach out and never let go. But it's just a first date and there will be another. And another and another, however many Steve can have before Bucky grows tired of him.

“This is me,” Bucky says and comes to a stop in front of an apartment door, gesturing to with a crooked smile that he throws over his shoulder at Steve.

Steve nods and, with his eyes dropping to where Bucky is licking his lips, he steps closer. Step by slow step, he moves closer.

“So,” he says when there's only one or two steps between them. “I guess this is goodnight.”

“Guess so,” Bucky says, his voice barely a whisper. He reaches out and curls his hand around Steve's jacket to pull him closer. “And I think I promised there'd be a goodnight kiss.”

“You did,” Steve says and goes willingly, moving closer until Bucky leans back against his door and Steve is practically looming over him. They're so close yet he moves closer, tilting his head as he leans in until he can feel Bucky's breath ghosting over his own parted lips.

“Stop teasing,” Bucky says, sounding breathless, “and kiss me.”

Steve's hands go to Bucky's jaw, cupping it. His thumbs brush over Bucky's cheekbones, brushing against the roughness of his stubble and the slightly heated skin below it. His eyes flicker up to find Bucky's for only a second before they slide back down to his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers, then leans in and kisses him.

Steve hasn't kissed anyone in a long, long time. He doesn't count the last time his lips touched someone else's as a kiss because it was nothing but a friendly peck between him and Natasha. He has forgotten how good it feels, being so close to someone, just like he forgot how good it felt to love someone romantically.

Because that is what he realizes as Bucky kisses him back enthusiastically.

Steve loves him. With all of his heart, he loves him.

With the realization in mind and heart, Steve grabs onto him a little tighter and kisses him a little harder, a little more desperately, a little bit deeper. His lips part, Bucky's following suit without hesitation, and his tongue seeks out his. Bucky makes a noise, a moan, into the kiss and Steve presses firmly against him, desperate for more of this man.

Steve completely loses track of time while they kiss and he finds that he doesn't mind it one bit. In the moment, it's just him and Bucky and their lips sliding together, tongues touching and Bucky's moans and small whimpers that makes Steve kiss him a little harder when he hears them.

Bucky, Steve learns, is very touchy when he kisses. For the whole time they kiss, Bucky's hands are wandering; touching his chest and down his abdomen, touching his hips and clutching at his back, desperately pulling him closer. He runs his fingers of his right hand through Steve's beard more than once, his left clinging to the front of his shirt like he's afraid Steve might pull away.

They kiss for a long, long time and Steve doesn't want it to stop. But it does have to stop, his phone buzzing in his pocket reminding him that he has a daughter to pick up soon and that, as much as he wants to, he can't make out with Bucky until the sun starts a new day.

So, slowly and reluctantly, he starts to soften the kiss and pulls away with a few, soft, and lingering kisses to Bucky's wet and red lips. They're both panting a little once they part, neither willing to go very far so their breaths mingle.

“Hi,” Steve breathes after a beat, a smile curling at his lips when he tears his gaze off of Bucky's lips and locks eyes with him instead.

Bucky smiles at him, a breathy chuckle falling from his lips in a huff, his eyes bright. “Hi,” he echoes and runs his hands down Steve's biceps, his right coming up to grab one of Steve's that are still cupping Bucky's jaw. He doesn't pull it away, no. Rather, he keeps it there. Like he doesn't want it gone.

Steve doesn't want it gone either, his thumb rubbing over Bucky's cheekbone slowly in a gentle caress.

“You wanna come inside for a bit?” Bucky asks after a minute and presses his hips pointedly to Steve's to make his intentions clear.

Steve bites back the whimper that threatens to spill and looks down at Bucky's lips. He wants to, God does he want to. He wants to get Bucky laid out for him, wants to kiss his lips, his neck, his chest, his stomach, his cock, his thighs, _everywhere_. He wants to pull more of those noises out of him, wants to hear how his name would sound with Bucky breathless and moaning.

He wants to, knows Sam would be more than willing to have Cassidy stay the night, but a part of him still hesitates to take that leap.

Still, he can't stop himself from leaning in and kissing Bucky again. He kisses him until Bucky goes a little boneless, sighing contently against his lips and slumping against the door behind him. He kisses him for a while and when he pulls back, he has to force himself to do so. He doesn't go very far, stays close enough for his lips to still brush over Bucky's as he speaks.

“Another time,” he whispers and kisses Bucky once more, only briefly this time, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear after.

Bucky sighs softly and leans heavily against the door. “You're a goddamn tease, Stevie,” he says but he's smiling, his face so soft and fond that Steve very nearly blurts something stupid.

He manages to bite it back though and instead occupies his mouth with another kiss, this one parting and lingering as he pulls back and forces himself to let go of Bucky and step away. He doesn't want to, has to fight to get himself to do it, but he manages.

“Bye, Buck,” he says and squeezes his hand once. He then turns and makes himself walk away, a smile on his lips that doesn't go away until he falls asleep with Cassidy cuddled into his side an hour or two later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life! <3


	11. Chapter 11

The flat palm of a hand smacks against the back of Steve's head a beat after he finishes retelling the story of his first date with Bucky and he winces at the force that comes with that smack, even though it's not rough and more of a tap than a smack.

“Ow,” he says and turns to give Natasha a displeased look. “The fuck was that for?”

Natasha raises her brows and gives him a pointed look. “Did you not hear what you just said?”

Steve's brows draw together. He glances over at where Sam is smirking at them for only a moment before he looks back at Natasha and shrugs. “I said we kissed,” he says slowly. “Why does that earn me a smack?”

“Because that's not what you said,” Natasha says and puts her cup down. “You said he invited you inside and you declined that invite. You should've taken him up on that offer.”

“What? Nat, no.” Steve shakes his head, his cheeks heating a little. “That– No. No, that's too soon.”

“It's sex, Steve,” Natasha says. “Not a marriage proposal.”

“Hate to say it but I agree with her,” Sam says.

Natasha turns an offended look to Sam and asks, “Why would you hate to say that?”

“Because you always get so damn smug when people agree with you.”

Natasha scoffs and mutters, “Rude,” against the rim of her cup.

“Anyway,” Sam says and looks from Natasha to Steve. “Why'd you say no to him?”

Steve sighs and leans back in his seat, his eyes wandering around the cafe they're in as he thinks it over for a minute. He's afraid, is the truth. But fear has never held him back from anything and if he can go on a date without puking and without turning tail and running away, he can follow his heart, his desires, and take the leap into bed with Bucky. Yet there he was anyway; declining his offer.

“Maybe I want to take it slow,” he finally decides on saying and shrugs. Even to his own ears, it doesn't sound convincing.

“Bullshit,” Sam says. “I have never known you to take anything slow once you take that first step. Ever. You literally met Rose once and then had sex with her for the following three months.”

A fond smile tugs at the corner of Steve's lips and he says, “And look where that got me–”

“With a great daughter who's literally the best thing that's ever happened to you,” Sam interrupts him with. “I know. You've told me that for the past seven years.”

Steve lets out a slow sigh and scratches at his bearded chin. “I just,” he starts and then cuts himself off, falling silent for a moment. “Bucky– I don't know, he's something special. Alright? I can't explain it. He just is and I don't... I don't wanna screw this up.”

“I know,” Sam says, voice soft. “But don't take it slow just 'cause that's what you think you're supposed to do. Do what you know is right. Follow your heart.”

“And bang the shit out of him?” Steve asks, lips tugging back into a grin.

Sam chuckles and says, “Absolutely.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head, smiling at the sound of Sam and Natasha laughing around him despite trying his hardest to look annoyed. The smile, however, starts to fade the moment the laughter dies down and he lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping as he slides a bit further down his seat.

“I don't want it to go too fast though,” he says after a pause. “I mean, I have to think about Cassie too.”

“You're grown men,” Natasha says. “I'm pretty sure having sex won't mean you're suddenly gonna skip a thousand steps or move in together and get married.”

Steve groans and rubs his hands over his face, suddenly fed up with talking about this. “Okay,” he says. “Can we please talk about someone else's sex life now?”

“I blew T'Challa in the shower this morning,” Sam says after a beat.

“I fucked Clint into a coma last night,” Natasha says.

Steve blinks then turns a deadpan look at them both. Natasha and Sam grin and high five across the table.

“I changed my mind,” Steve says. “Can we talk about something _completely_ different?”

Sam snickers and Natasha reaches over to pat Steve's shoulder.

“Sure,” she says. “Who wants to hear about the newest, grossest crimes in town?”

Sam immediately raises his hand.

Steve sighs and says, “Gives us your worst.”

With a grin, Natasha does.

♜

They haven't agreed on a second date, haven't even really talked about it. No more than there is going to be one because they both want there to be a second one and a third and a fourth and an infinite amount of them. Neither of them have said it in so many words but Steve has thought about it and, judging by Bucky's almost constant texting, he's pretty sure Bucky feels the same.

Or, well, he can always hope.

But they haven't planned anything.

“We do things on your terms, Stevie, so whenever you're ready,” Bucky told him one night and Steve both loves and hates him for that.

He loves him for it because Bucky is putting him first. He hates him for it because he wishes Bucky would put himself first for once. He wishes Bucky would tell him what _he_ wants, just once. Steve has quickly realized that Bucky doesn't do that and that's not right.

So one night while Cassidy is playing with her Lego bricks on the floor of his office space and his work has long been forgotten because he can't turn off his brain and focus, Steve picks up his phone and sends a text to Bucky with only one thing in mind.

To make Bucky feel as special as he is.

> **[** 10:03 AM **] Steve** : Wanna come over for dinner tonight? I'll cook.

The reply is almost instant.

< **[** 10:04 AM **] Bucky** : it's a date ;)

Steve smiles down at the screen of his phone then turns to Cassidy. “Cassie,” he says. “How does movie night at Ayanna's sound?”

Cassidy hums and doesn't look up from the house she's building. “Why?” she asks.

“I invited Bucky over for dinner,” Steve says after a pause, “and I would like some alone time with him. If that's okay with you?”

“Yep,” Cassidy says instantly and finally looks up at him. “Can I stay with Ayanna at night too?”

Steve smiles at her and grabs his phone. “Depends on what your uncle Sam says but I'm sure it's gonna be a yes.”

“Then okay,” Cassidy says and turns back to her bricks. “Can I take the good pencils with me?”

“Don't push it, young lady,” Steve says meaning for it to be stern but his smile ruins it.

Cassidy smiles widely and innocently up at him. Steve narrows his eyes at her for a moment before he turns and sends a text to Sam, asking him for a favor. It takes Sam a good hour or so to respond and when he does, it's with nothing but the eggplant emoji.

Steve doesn't dignify that with a response.

♜

Cassidy is clutching his hand tightly between both of her own, climbing her way up his side with a bit of struggle but doing it regardless, when there's a rhythmic knock on the front door. Steve glances toward it briefly before glancing at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall.

Fifteen minutes to six, so it can't be Sam because Sam is always punctual, with the exception of his own wedding but that one's on Steve so it doesn't count.

With a pull, Steve hauls Cassidy the rest of the way up and lets her climb onto his shoulders as he walks over toward the door. Another series of rhythmic knocks sound again before they make it there, Cassidy's hands squishing his cheeks and her feet kicking his chest. Steve smiles the best he can with his cheeks squished and grabs onto one of her shins to keep at least that leg still, then he reaches out and opens the door.

The person standing on the other side makes Steve brighten instantly, his smile widening.

“Bucky!” he says and his daughter's hands stop squishing his cheeks but stays put. “Hey. You're early.”

Bucky looks at him for all of one second before his eyes drift upward and land on Cassidy. His face softens, as does his smile when he lowers his gaze to land on Steve again. Steve desperately wants to reach out and kiss him.

“Maybe I just couldn't wait to see you,” Bucky says with a shrug of his right shoulder. His smiles falters a little then he asks, “Is, uh... Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Steve blurts maybe a little to quick but, judging by the pink color that spreads across Bucky's cheekbones, that probably isn't a bad thing. “Yeah, of course. It just means you gotta deal with this one,” his shoulders jump a little, jiggling a now giggling Cassidy, “for another fifteen minutes 'til either Sam or T'Challa get here to pick her up.”

“Oh no, what a hardship,” Bucky says dryly and rolls his eyes before he looks up at Cassidy. “Your dad is pretty mean, isn't he?”

“Sometimes,” Cassidy says and Steve rolls his eyes. “Can I do your hair again, Bucky?”

Bucky's smile widens and he says, “Cassidy, you can do my hair whenever you want to. How does that sound?”

“Great!” she says. Steve doesn't need to see her face to know she's smiling brightly, not with the way she's bouncing on his shoulders and the way her voice gets all high and excited.

With a small chuckle and a fond smile on his lips, Bucky looks back at Steve. Steve is already looking at him, his hands fidgeting a little where they're wrapped around Cassidy's legs to keep himself from reaching out and kissing Bucky hello.

Apparently Bucky can see right through his hesitation because not a second later, his eyes darken ever so slightly and drop to Steve's lips. The tip of his tongue sticks out and moves along his bottom lip and Steve follows it with his eyes, breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, Cassie,” Bucky says with his eyes still glued to Steve. “Would it be weird for you if I kissed your dad?”

“Nope,” Cassidy says after only a beat. “You can kiss my dad.”

Steve doesn't hesitate to move; he reaches out and curls his hand into the front of Bucky's shirt – it's similar to the one on their first date except the tee is white instead of black this time – before pulling him forward and inside the house at the same time.

They meet halfway, both leaning in at the same time, and their lips meet in a kiss. It's soft but firm and Steve sighs into it, letting his lips linger against Bucky's for just a moment before he pulls back and smiles at him.

“Hi,” he whispers and offers him another quick peck.

“Hi yourself,” Bucky whispers back and leans in for another kiss, smiling. “Mm, missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Steve tells him in a whispers and happily leans into the kiss. However, they only get to kiss for another second before it's interrupted by a pair of hands that are too small to be Bucky's squishing his cheeks. Steve pulls back with a laugh and reaches up to grab Cassidy's hands. “What's up, Cassie?”

“I wanna do Bucky's hair,” Cassidy says.

“Well then.” Bucky reaches up and grabs at Cassidy, lifting her up and off of Steve's shoulders and into his own arms where Cassidy goes willingly and with a wide smile. “Let's see how pretty you can make me before you gotta leave.”

The two of them walk further into the house, Bucky with a wink in Steve's direction and Cassidy already sticking her fingers into Bucky's loose hair, and Steve rolls his shoulders as he watches them walk away, his back grateful for the lack of child weight on him.

As it turns out, Cassidy only manages to get one side of Bucky's hair into a messy braid, sealed with a colorful hair tie and a red bow, before the door opens and Sam calls out his greeting.

Steve, who has sat himself on the chair in the living room and has taken pictures of Cassidy and Bucky on the couch with his phone, turns and sees his best friend come into view. He sees the moment Sam's smile turns into a grin as he takes in the scene he's met with.

Steve blushes and gives him a warning look even though he knows Sam is going to completely ignore it.

“Well, doesn't this look cozy,” Sam says and leans against the wall, shooting Steve a teasing look before his attention shifts back to Cassidy and Bucky. “Hey, Cassie.” A nod, the smile slipping. “Bucky.”

“Sam,” Bucky says, almost stiffly.

Steve looks from Bucky to Sam and back a couple of times. There's a tense atmosphere between them, he can feel it. For a second he fears that he's missed something, like the two of them disliking each other. And how is he supposed to live with his best friend and his potential future boyfriend not liking each other?

But then he takes a proper look at Sam, sees his shoulders squared and his eyes narrowed and his chest puffed out, and Steve can't help but smile.

Sam is being protective and clearly Bucky is picking up on it.

“Hi, uncle Sam,” Cassidy says, jumping off the couch and running over to give Sam a hug that's returned instantly.

“Hi, Cassie,” Sam says again and smiles down at her. “Why don't you go put your shoes on and get your stuff so we can get going, huh? Ayanna's waiting for you.”

“Okay!” Cassidy says and sprints off to her room.

Steve looks after her for a moment before he gets to his feet and steps over to Sam. He briefly looks at Bucky, offering him a smile and silently telling him he'll be right back, then he follows Sam back to the front door.

“Thank you for this,” he says once they're out of earshot from Bucky and clasps a hand on Sam's shoulder. “Seriously.”

“Thank me by getting some ass,” Sam says in a lowered voice and nudges his side, waggling his brows suggestively.

“Oh my God,” Steve laughs and shoves at him. “Fuck off.”

“I'm just saying,” Sam says and shrugs. “You've got the house to yourselves, you're both obviously stupidly into each other. Might as well take advantage of it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says and waves a dismissive hand. “Anyway, I owe you one.”

“Damn right you do. Next weekend, you're babysitting my kids so _I_ can get some ass.”

Steve shoves at him and says, “Okay, get out. I don't need to hear more.”

Sam laughs and reaches for the door. “Come on, Cassie!” he calls out while grinning widely and teasingly at Steve.

Cassidy comes walking down the hall a handful of seconds later with her shoes on and her backpack slung over her shoulders. She gives Steve a tight hug and a quiet goodbye before she grabs Sam's hand and drags him out the door with her.

The door closes and Steve finds himself alone in the house with Bucky.

For a second he feels nervous. But then he turns around and sees Bucky leaning against the wall with a small smile on his lips, his features soft and posture no longer looking tense, and suddenly the nerves disappear.

“You hungry?” Steve asks, returning the smile easily as he steps toward him.

“Starving,” Bucky says and, once Steve is close enough, reaches out to grab onto him, dragging him closer with a little glint in his eyes. He stays leaned against the wall, eyes locked onto Steve's lips.

Steve finds himself going willingly. He plants one hand flat on the wall while the other moves to cup Bucky's jaw, his thumb briefly running along Bucky's bottom lip before he leans in and replaces it with his own lips. Bucky sighs against his lips and returns the kiss instantly, his hands grabbing Steve's hips and pulling them flush together.

Steve lets him. He lets him pull and move him however he wants, lets him touch and explore his mouth with his tongue as the kiss deepens. He lets him do whatever he wants to and enjoys every second of it.

However, when Bucky's hands start wandering a little too far south, Steve forces himself to lean back. He doesn't go far, just enough so he can speak, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips.

“I thought you were hungry,” he says in a low voice.

“I was,” Bucky says, his voice low too. “Well, am. But,” his hands wander lower and he bites his bottom lip as he pulls Steve closer, “I really wanna make out with you for a couple of hours too.”

Steve lets himself get pulled in for another kiss and he kisses back for just a minute or two before he shoves himself away, stepping back and putting distance between them.

“Let's go eat,” he says and reaches out to grab Bucky's hand while a teasing grin forms on his lips. “Kiss later, remember?”

Bucky blinks at him, slightly dazed, then narrows his eyes into a glare. “You're a fucking punk,” he grumbles.

Steve winks at him and drags him along to the kitchen. Luckily, Bucky doesn't fight him and just goes willingly, shifting their hands to lace their fingers together and they both squeeze.

Steve spend a good hour or so preparing dinner before Bucky arrived. It took several hours to decide what he should even make but when the idea hit him, it was like the most obvious answer. Making it was easy because not only has he made it a thousand times before, he has also watched his mom make it a million times before she passed away.

The lasagna is still in the oven when they step into the kitchen and it will be for another handful of minutes, so Steve gestures toward the set table – no candles are lit because he decided that was a bit too much – in a silent invitation for Bucky to sit down while he himself goes to get them something to drink.

“Those are pretty,” Bucky comments in a soft voice and Steve looks over his shoulder to see him nodding toward the bouquet of flowers placed on the table.

The bouquet is a mix of red roses, white lilies, and daisies sitting in water in a red vase. The flowers are fresh and Steve took them out of their protective plastic once they were delivered. And if he spend a few minutes too long arranging them to look prettier, then that's for Cassidy to tease him about and for no one else to know.

“Thanks,” he says and walks over to hand Bucky a glass. “Cassidy helped me pick them.”

“Aw,” Bucky coos and takes the offered glass. “Ain't that cute.”

Steve hesitates for only a moment before he says, “They're for you.”

Instantly, Bucky's smile falls from his lips and his eyes, now wide and big, go to his. If it wasn't for the stunned expression on his face, Steve would have felt the urge to run away and hide. But no, he doesn't. Not when Bucky is looking at him like that.

“Are you shitting me?” Bucky asks in a breathless voice.

Steve smiles softly at him and shakes his head. “I'm being dead serious, Buck,” he says.

Bucky puts down his glass on the table. He flies out of his seat a second after and grabs onto Steve's face. He kisses him, hard and passionately and repeatedly, and Steve can only smile into each and every one of them and kiss back when he gets the chance to.

“That's so fucking sweet,” Bucky says between kisses. “And so fucking gay, Stevie, shit.”

“So it's perfect for you,” Steve says with a grin and leans in to kiss him.

Bucky hums into it then says, “ _You_ 're perfect for me.”

“Now, _that_ 's gay,” Steve says teasingly and ignores the way his cheek heat at Bucky's words.

“Hate to break it to you, pal,” Bucky says and pats his cheek once before he sits back down, “but we're pretty gay ourselves.”

“I'm bi,” Steve says and turns around when the oven timer goes off. “Fuck you.”

“Later,” Bucky says. “Don't wanna fuck on an empty stomach. Besides, as much as I would love to get your dick in me, you promised me a home cooked meal and I've been looking forward to it all fucking day so don't you dare make me wait longer.”

“So what you're saying,” Steve says as he opens the oven, “is that you'd rather have my food than my dick?”

“Right now, yeah. Stick your dick in my ass and we can do both, though.”

Reaching into the oven with his hand covered in an oven mitt, Steve looks over at Bucky. He holds his gaze for a beat or two and then they both break out into wide and toothy grins. When Bucky laughs, Steve joins him easily.

“Maybe later,” Steve says and pulls the now done lasagna out of the oven. He turns and walks over to place it on the trivet on the table.

“Damn,” Bucky says and leans forward a bit, breathing in deeply. “Fuck, that smells good.”

“Thank you,” Steve says and sits down on the seat opposite Bucky, reaching for the knife to cut into the lasagna. “My mom used to make me this all the fucking time before she passed. She insisted it was easy to do but after learning myself, I've realized it's really not.”

Bucky smiles at him and holds up his plate to get a decent slice of lasagna over on it. “So you're trying to impress me.”

“Of course I am,” Steve says without missing a beat and scoops himself a portion. “I learned how to cook when Rose told me she was pregnant. I was a real mess before then, didn't know how to cook, even though I was twenty-eight at the time.” He pauses, squinting in thought. “Twenty-seven?” He shrugs. “Whatever, doesn't matter. But, well, I figured cooking you dinner would be a good way to woo you.”

“You've bought me a stupid amount of coffee and lunch, you let me hold your hand, you're charming as fuck, you're a little shit, you make me laugh.” Bucky's smile softens. “You make me feel comfortable. You've already wooed me, Steve.”

“More, then,” Steve says and reaches across the table to grab Bucky's hand, eyes locked onto his and voice going soft and earnest. “You're something special, Bucky Barnes, and I'm gonna treat you right.”

The reaction is instant but Steve watches it happen in an almost slow pace, like his brain is trying to store the memory away for safe keeping. He watches as Bucky's cheeks color and turn a pretty pink under his stubble, watches as the corners of his lips tug back into a soft, almost bashful, smile, and watches as Bucky's whole face turns that much softer.

Steve makes a promise to himself, to the universe, to _Bucky_. He's going to do everything in his power to get that kind of soft and happy expression on Bucky as often as he can possibly manage.

He so desperately wants to kiss him but he fights the urge and instead just squeezes Bucky's hand before digging into the still steaming warm lasagna. Bucky squeezes back and does the same, neither of them letting go of the other's hand and both of them absently playing with each other's fingers while they eat.

When their plates are half empty and Bucky's shoulders are completely relaxed and there's an easy smile seemingly stuck to his lips, Steve shifts his foot forward under the table until he finds Bucky's. He doesn't hesitate to lift it and rub along Bucky's calf slowly, teasingly, for a minute, just in case Bucky thinks it might be an accident.

Bucky's fork falls from his left hand and clatters onto the table.

Blushing, Bucky glares at him from across the table. Steve just smiles innocently back and keeps playing footsie with Bucky. Eventually, Bucky joins in and suddenly Steve has a hard time focusing on anything but how badly he wants to touch Bucky _everywhere_.

But he powers through the desire momentarily clouding his mind and continues to eat. Much to Bucky's disappointment, it seems, if his glare and small pout that Steve desperately wants to kiss away has any indication of anything.

Steve winks at him, squeezes his hand, and asks him about his parents.

The lasagna is eaten – mostly, there's still a bit left in the pan that Steve knows Cassidy is gonna appreciate the following day – and neither of them are in any rush to go anywhere, both comfortable and relaxed and happily full.

They're still touching feet under the table, still holding hands above the table, and Steve still catches Bucky glancing down at his lips and licking his own.

He still catches Bucky looking at him with his pupils blown and biting at his lips and, when it happens for the sixth time, Steve decides he's done teasing. Because he's not just teasing Bucky, he's teasing himself too at this point.

Leaning forward a little, Steve looks at Bucky and asks, “Wanna go make out on the couch?”

“God yes, please,” Bucky breathes and scoots his chair back to stand.

Steve stands up too, letting go of Bucky's hands reluctantly. “I gotta clean up in here first,” he says and smiles at him. “Go wait for me, will you?”

Bucky makes a low hum of agreement but instead of turning and walking to the living room, he steps closer and takes Steve's face in his hands. There's a moment where Bucky just looks at him, eyes soft, and then he leans in and kisses him so softly that Steve damn near melts right through the floor.

“Thank you for the dinner,” Bucky whispers after pulling back. “It was delicious.”

“You're welcome,” Steve whispers back, a little stunned at the softness. And when Bucky leans in to kiss him softly once more, he suddenly lights up with the realization that he's really, truly, ridiculously in love with him.

Steve realized he loved Bucky the first time they kissed, after their first date, but now he knows that he's _in love_ with him, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. He's completely and utterly and disgustingly in love, and it terrifies him. But not in the way that makes him want to turn tail and run away. No, he's way past that. It's the kind of terrifying that makes him want to chase after it, the kind of terrifying that excites him, the kind of terrifying he never wants to live without.

Bucky steps back after the kiss ends and gives him a smile and a wink before he turns around and walks out of the kitchen. Steve is left to stand there, stunned at the realization as he looks after him.

It doesn't take him very long before he shakes himself out of it and starts cleaning the table of their food though. But even as he does, putting the plates and glass in the dishwasher and putting foil over the pan before putting it in the fridge, he can't get his heart to calm the fuck down nor can he get himself to stop smiling like a dope.

He loves Bucky. He _loves_ him.

In a way he thought he would never be able to love again, he loves him.

Steve wants to yell it from the rooftops and whisper it into Bucky's ear and mouth it against his lips, his neck, any and every part of him. He wants to say it over and over and over again until he no longer can or until Bucky gets tired of hearing it.

He's not going to though. No, it's only their second date and it's way too early for “I love you”s, no matter how true they may be.

So he bites back the urge to blurt it as he walks into the living room and finds Bucky sitting on the couch, head tilted away from him and eyes somewhere to the right. There's a soft and fond smile resting on his lips and his eyes, Steve realizes when he follows them, are locked onto the framed photo standing on the round, nearby table.

Cassidy is only two months on the photo. It's one of the first professional photos Steve got taken of her and that one has always been his favorite of the bunch.

In the photo, her eyes are wide and open, her mouth slightly agape but with an uptick in one corner like she's about to smile. Her head is warmed by a light blue hat that matches her eyes and the editing of the photo makes the whole thing look so incredibly soft.

Back when Cassidy was still a baby and even when she was a toddler, Steve spend hours just looking at it while she was asleep. Sometimes he still finds himself looking at it if she's not around and he misses her, heart warm with love for his daughter.

And now, as he stands silently and takes in the sight of Bucky smiling fondly at the photo, Steve's heart is warm with love for this man too.

Steve moves forward after sucking in a breath. He only makes it a step or two before Bucky seems to notice his presence and turns toward him, his smile widening and staying soft when their eyes meet from across the room.

“This is a cute picture,” Bucky says and looks back at it. “How old is she here?”

“Two months,” Steve says and sits down next to Bucky on the couch, draping an arm around the back behind him. “It was the first picture I got taken of her by some professional photographer. Parker, I think his name is. Every other picture was just from my phone or the others'.”

Bucky turns to him again and his smile turns into a teasing grin as he leans into him a little. “Please tell me you've got a scrapbook full of baby pictures,” he says, eyes bright.

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Steve asks. “I don't have _a_ scrapbook, Buck. I've got several.”

“Knew it,” Bucky says. He leans more into him, lowering his head onto Steve's shoulder and tilting it back to look at him. The smile on his lips is soft, his eyes flickering from Steve's eyes to his lips on repeat. “You seem like the kinda dad who'd do something like that.”

Steve doesn't wait any longer, doesn't say anything, doesn't let Bucky say anything either. He leans in and kisses him, his arm sliding down from the back of the couch to wrap around Bucky's shoulders while his head bows down to capture Bucky's lips firmly with his own.

Bucky kisses back instantly, humming into it. The kiss is short lived, however, because then he pulls back and in one, fluid motion, he crawls into Steve's lap, a knee on either side of Steve's hips and hands moving to his neck.

“I think you promised me a make out, Stevie,” Bucky says in a whisper as he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together and letting their noses brush.

Steve places his hands on Bucky's thighs, slides them up until they find his hips, and whispers back, “I did, didn't I?”

Bucky hums noncommittally and leans down to kiss him. Steve doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the feeling of Bucky's soft lips sliding against his own and in the feeling of Bucky's hands touching him, right moving up into his hair while the left moves down to clutch at his chest.

It starts out sweet and innocent, nothing but a few traded kisses. But it doesn't stay that way for long.

Bucky spreads his legs and slides further into his lap while grabbing onto one of Steve's hands and guiding it further back until it lands on his ass. Bucky shifts closer, Steve gives an experimental squeeze, and suddenly it's not so innocent anymore.

Bucky tilts his head to one side, Steve tilts his own to the other, and their lips part simultaneously to deepen the kiss. Their tongues meet, Bucky moans into the kiss, and Steve's other hand joins the one on Bucky's ass, squeezing and encouraging him to move closer.

Bucky does without hesitation, hips bucking in a grind that pulls a moan from them both.

All of Steve's blood rushes south and he can feel his cock twitching and swelling in his pants while Bucky's hips grind down in slow, teasing, almost hesitant yet desperate movements. It's almost embarrassing how much all these little touches effect him but then, well, he hasn't really had anyone but his right hand to get off with for close to eight years, so he figures it's justified.

A part of him tells him to stop and slow it down before it goes further but that part of him is deafened by the desire that shouts in his mind, in his heart, in every single part of him. And who is Steve to ignore that? He's done it for too long. No more.

He ignores the hesitant part of him and dives head first into what he wants.

Steve tastes Bucky's tongue with his own for only another moment before he pulls back just slightly and sucks onto his bottom lip. His hands pull and squeeze where they are on Bucky's ass, encouraging him to keep moving which, with a filthy moan, he does.

Bucky's head tips backwards, breaking the kiss, and Steve eyes the inviting skin of his neck for no more than a second before he leans forward to kiss it, lick it, taste it. It pulls a breathy moan from Bucky and, when he grinds down against him no longer hesitantly but encouraged and desperate, Steve can feel that he isn't the only one getting hard.

“Steve,” Bucky lets out in a breath.

Steve doesn't get to respond with anything but a hum against the salty skin of Bucky's neck because then there are two familiar hands grabbing onto his head and suddenly he's kissing Bucky again.

The kiss is sloppy and wet, both of them too desperate to care about technique. Steve just wants to taste him, feel him. With the way Bucky is kissing him and the way Bucky's hands are touching him everywhere and the way his hips are moving in a desperate search for friction, sliding their clothed cocks together in quick and jerky movements, he knows Bucky feels the same.

He could do this forever, Steve thinks as he slides one hand up along Bucky's back until he finds the back of his head and lets his fingers curl into long and soft hair, drawing out a rumbling moan and a stuttering grind. With Bucky sitting on top of him, kissing him, touching him, he's sure he can do this for the rest of his life.

Because this? This is where Steve feels like he belongs. With Bucky.

Feeling brave, Steve tightens his grip in Bucky's hair and lets his own hips buck up against him. The sound it punches out of Bucky is a sound that he wants to hear a million times more, so he does it again and again and–

“Stop, stop, stop,” Bucky breathes and suddenly pulls away, a hand on Steve's chest to push him back.

“Wha–?”

Steve immediately pulls back and loosens his grips before slowly moving his hands away. He blinks the daze away and looks up at Bucky. God, he looks absolutely _wrecked_. His lips are red and wet, his cheeks flushed pink, and, Steve discovers as he lets himself glance downward for a split second, tenting the front of his pants obscenely.

Steve is positive he looks just as wrecked and just as turned on.

“What's wrong?” Steve asks, eyes back on Bucky's face and searching for... something. He's not sure what but just something.

“Nothing,” Bucky says and shakes his head, tongue poking out to lick at his kiss swollen lips before he lets out a laugh. “It's just... I'm gonna come in my pants like a fucking teenager if we don't slow down.”

Steve blinks and doesn't fight the mischievous grin that forms on his lips. “Wanna bet,” he asks and leans toward Bucky, dropping his voice to a sultry whisper, “that I can make you come in your pants like a fucking teenager?”

“Oh, you're the fucking devil,” Bucky lets out in a breathy laugh.

Steve hums and kisses him once, twice, before he nibbles softly at his bottom lip and lets his hands move to find Bucky's ass again. “Mm, wanna see my bedroom?” he asks and squeezes.

“You don't wanna do it right here?” Bucky asks breathlessly and rolls his hips teasingly.

“Well, I don't have lube and condoms here so no.”

Bucky's eyes are bright when he asks, “So you were planning this then?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder and says, “Call me optimistic.”

“I thought your name was Steve.”

Steve lightly slaps his ass. “Jerk.”

“Punk,” Bucky retorts and kisses him sweetly. “Show me your bedroom.”

Somehow, between kissing and touching, neither willing to let go of the other for longer than a few seconds, they find their way into Steve's bedroom. Despite the house being completely empty aside from the two of them, Steve still closes the door after shoving a chuckling Bucky inside. And once it's closed, Bucky is on him in an instant, pushing him against the door and kissing him.

Steve kisses him back for only a moment before he breathlessly says, “Lose the clothes, Buck.”

“Gladly,” Bucky says against his lips, offers him a peck, and then steps back several paces, never once taking his eyes off of Steve.

Steve licks his lips and leans heavily against the door as he watches Bucky strip out of his shirt, watches as human and prosthetic fingers move similarly yet so differently but each so smoothly. He watches as Bucky's torso becomes naked, his shirt dropping unceremoniously to the floor.

Breath caught in his throat, Steve lowers his eyes to Bucky's chest and takes in the sight before him.

He's always been aware that Bucky is in good shape and muscular, has seen him in enough tight fitting tank tops to know just how well, but seeing him shirtless, all that tanned skin exposed, is something else.

Steve's eyes linger on the hardening nipples for a second before he drags his eyes downward and takes in the abs and the few, white scars scattered across his left side and the trail of hair leading down into his pants still tenting at the front.

Bucky is downright beefy and Steve feels his own cock give a twitch of interest.

“You too,” Bucky says and opens his belt. “Lose the clothes, sweetheart.”

Steve can't help but smile at the pet name and reaches up to start unbuttoning his shirt. He hesitates momentarily at the second button but he pushes through it with a deep intake of breath and focuses on the hungry way Bucky is looking at him. The last button is undone and, leaning away from the door, he lets it fall from his shoulders and down to the floor behind him.

Steve isn't as fit as he used to be. He's not getting chubby or a dad bod or anything like it, not skin and bones like he used to be either, and his stomach is still flat and toned. His body is just much softer than it used to be, his workouts having become less and less frequent over the years, and Steve feels a little self conscious about it.

Until Bucky steps forward, presses his right palm to his chest, and groans out a curse.

That gives Steve the confidence to stride forward, take Bucky's face in his hands, and kiss him within an inch of his life. Bucky makes a surprised noise against his lips and stumbles back a step or two that Steve matches. It takes no time before Bucky is clutching onto Steve and kissing back frantically.

“I want you,” Steve breathes into the kiss and grinds his hips to Bucky's in a search for friction. “So bad, Buck.”

“You've got me,” Bucky says, kissing him and running his mismatched hands down his chest until he can hook his fingers into the belt loops of Steve's pants. He tugs, crashing their crotches together and making them both moan with a slow grind. “All you gotta do is take these off.”

“Okay,” Steve says and kisses him once more before stepping back. “Get yours off too.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky says and winks.

Getting his pants off, Steve learns, is easier said than done. Maybe it's because this is starting to become very real and he's starting to get nervous or maybe pants are suddenly a thousand piece puzzle game that he's too stupid to figure out.

Whatever it is, he keeps fumbling with his belt and with the buttons and the struggle of it feels like it goes on for-fucking-ever. So long that he's starting to get frustrated, grumbling to himself and silently cursing himself for not having gone the easy way and just worn sweatpants. Or something without a belt and zipper and buttons, that would have been much easier.

“Want me to give you a hand with that?” Bucky asks after a minute and, with a sigh, Steve looks over at him.

And then immediately pauses at the sight he's met with.

Bucky is sitting on the edge of the bed, his pants thrown toward where his shirt it. His underwear – tight, red briefs, a wet spot darkening the material by the waistband – is tenting ridiculously in the front and Bucky isn't trying to hide it, his legs spread and proudly showing it off.

There's a grin on his lips and in his right hand he holds his prosthetic, detached from his stump that is now as bare as the rest of him. He waves the prosthetic a little in emphasis and quirks a playful brow.

Steve blinks owlishly once and then bursts out laughing.

He can't help it, it just flies right out of him and as he laughs, he can feel himself relax more and more. It's only when his laughter dies down slowly that he realizes that was probably the point of Bucky's joke; to get him to relax.

So, with a fond smile on his lips and still chuckling under his breath, Steve goes over, cups his face, and kisses him sweetly and passionately. He kisses him as a silent thank you but also as a way to stop himself from blurting something stupid like tell him he loves him.

The pants come off eventually with Bucky's help. Both of their underwear join the scattered clothes on the floor and, naked and kissing and both chuckling a little, they fall onto the bed.

Steve lasts an embarrassingly short time after getting inside of Bucky, the tightness and heat and pleasure and Bucky's moans and touches too much for him to handle. But it's okay because he barely gets Bucky's leaking cock into his mouth before he comes too, shouting Steve's name like a prayer.

♜

After, they lay cuddled up together, naked and sweat cooling on their bare skin. Steve is on his back with one arm wrapped around Bucky, fingers lightly tracing up and down his side, and the other arm under the pillow his head is resting on. Bucky is cuddled up next to him, laying half on top of him with a leg thrown over his hips and his head pillowed on his chest where his right hand is going through the bit of hair on Steve's torso.

Bucky's prosthetic stayed off while they had sex. It's now resting on the bedside table where the bottle of lube and a small handful of condoms are laid out as well, the bottle still open and the condoms thrown carelessly after they used the one now filled and thrown away.

Neither of them are saying anything, both just enjoying the closeness of the other. And of course this is when doubt starts creeping over Steve and once the thought has graced his mind for that one split second, it keeps coming back until it's all he can think about.

“That wasn't too fast, was it?” he asks, finally breaking the silence that started to feel deafening to him.

“Don't worry,” Bucky says and pats his chest. “You coming that fast is an ego boost for me.”

Steve pinches the meat of his hip and says, “That's not what I meant, you fucking jerk.”

Bucky shifts against him at the pinch and laughs but it's not long before he falls silent again. He tilts his head up and looks at Steve. Steve isn't looking back at him and is instead frowning up at the ceiling, but he can feel eyes on him so he knows.

It's a long, long moment before Bucky moves, shifting further up on him and leaning down to kiss his lips softly but briefly. When he leans back, he stays close and, with his hand, he makes Steve looks him right in the eye.

“We're taking things our pace, Stevie,” he says and lightly caresses his bearded cheek. “ _Our_ pace. Which means nothing will be too fast unless either of us feel like it is.” He pauses for a beat then asks, “So, do _you_ think us having sex was moving too fast?”

Steve thinks about it for a minute, eyes flickering between Bucky's. “No,” he finally decides on.

“There you go,” Bucky says and smiles at him. “We're just getting to know each other.” He pauses, leaning down to kiss Steve and dropping his voice into a husky whisper as he continues. “Sexually.” Another kiss, this one a little firmer as he shifts to straddle Steve. “Intimately–”

Steve doesn't let Bucky continue. He reaches up to get his hand into Bucky's hair and pulls him down for a deep and passionate kiss, shutting him up effectively. With Bucky chuckling against his lips and kissing back, he rolls them over and Bucky's laughter quickly turns into a moan.

They're going to be okay, Steve thinks when they part to smile at each other for only a moment before he gets pulled back down, going willingly and meeting Bucky halfway for another kiss.

Yeah, they are going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life. <3


	12. Epilogue

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

 

The sound of the front door opening and closing pulls Steve out of his wandering thoughts. He blinks once or twice down at where he's stirring on a steaming and sizzling pan before he turns his attention toward the hallway.

He can hear something heavy being put down followed by two lighter things – boots, he already knows – and the jingling of keys as they're put on the hook by the front door.

Across the hall, he can hear the television going. Cassidy sat herself in front of it a few minutes before he started to make dinner and she's still sitting there, probably either completely swallowed up by whatever movie she's watching or she's forgotten all about it and is playing on the floor instead.

Steve listens to the soft footsteps coming down the hall and he smiles even before the visitor comes into view, the smile on his lips soft and fond and easy.

Bucky looks tired. His hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail that's probably redone judging by the lack of any locks of hair falling down his face, framing it, like usual, and there's still a smudge of oil on his cheek. He looks completely exhausted but the smile on his lips is soft and easy.

“Hey,” Steve greets him and reaches out with his free hand, tugging Bucky in once he takes it.

“Hey yourself,” Bucky greets back and leans in to kiss him. “Mm, smells good.”

“Thank you,” Steve says and kisses him once more before he turns back to the food he's making, smile growing wider when he feels Bucky's arms, real and prosthetic, wrap around him from behind, a solid weight pressing against his back. “Hope it tastes as good as it smells.”

“I was talking about you,” Bucky says and kisses his neck. “But sure, the food smells good too.”

Steve rolls his eyes and dryly says, “Thanks, I took a shower.”

“Without me? And here I thought you loved me.”

“I do but _someone_ wasn't home to join me.”

“Well, _someone_ could've just waited until I came home.”

The fact that Bucky calls this house home, and has done so for the past few months, still makes Steve's heart do funny things, fluttering with happiness. Steve tries and fails to hide the happy smile that forms on his lips the second the word is out of Bucky's mouth.

“And spend the day stinking of sweat?” He scoffs and leans into him a little. “I don't think so.”

Bucky hums against the nape of his neck, nibbling softly. “Tell me you love me,” he whispers, “and I'll forgive you.”

Steve stirs the pan a couple more times before he puts the spoon down and turns around. He wraps his arms around Bucky, pulls him close to himself, and kisses him sweetly for a long minute that's not long enough.

“I love you,” he whispers against his lips, his heart flying into his throat as he utters the words even though it's far from the first time he's said them.

The first time he said it, he blurted it. It was five months ago and he found Cassidy asleep on Bucky's chest in the living room. The words just flew out of him before he could stop himself and Bucky's eyes, wide with surprise, snapped to him.

Steve didn't panic despite his heart pounding in his chest though. No, he just said it again. And again and again and again and Bucky's smile grew wider and softer and happier each time. And then finally Bucky said it back like it was the easiest, most natural thing for them.

Five months later and Steve still wants to repeat those words over and over again because Bucky's face always softens and he always looks so happy whenever he does. Steve wants to make him look like that always.

“I love you too,” Bucky whispers back and kisses him twice more before he steps back, patting Steve's cheek, his fingers lingering for a moment. “Where's Cassidy?”

“Watching a movie in the living room,” Steve says and turns his head to press a quick kiss to Bucky's hand before it moves too far away. “She's been waiting for you to come home so you can help her with her math.”

“Obviously,” Bucky says and grins as he steps back. “It's not like you can help her, is it? You're useless at it.”

“If you keep insult me like that, you can forget all about getting some tonight,” Steve threatens and turns back to the food. He doesn't let Bucky respond with more than a whine before he continues. “Hey, you are staying over tonight, right?”

“You bet your ass I am,” Bucky says, his back now turned as he walks out of the kitchen. “I left my overnight bag in the foyer.”

“I'm not your butler!” Steve calls after him and smiles down at the cooking and sizzling food because Bucky staying over always makes him happy.

The response comes in a bright laughter and Bucky calling back, “I'm tired! Be a good boyfriend and put it away, Steve!”

Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head while an exasperated sigh leaves him. The smile on his lips turns fond, however, when he hears Cassidy call out Bucky's name excitedly. He listens to them, their voices too distant to make out the exact words they're saying, but the sound of them is comforting to him.

Ever since Bucky became a solid, constant part in both his and Cassidy's lives, this place, this house, has started to feel more and more like a place Steve can call home. It has always been home to him, anywhere with Cassidy would be because she's his home, but now it feels more stable. More secure.

Bucky doesn't live with them, not yet. He still has his own apartment but he spends less and less time there and more and more time at the Rogers household. Steve started to notice two months ago when he found a pair of Bucky's sweats in the laundry basket. It terrified him but in the good way and all he did was smile, wash the sweats, and throw them at Bucky once they were clean and dry.

Bucky keeps doing it – the amount of Bucky's clothes Steve has washed over these few months is honestly a little bit ridiculous – and Steve keeps letting him.

With Bucky and Cassidy around him and in his life, Steve feels like he belongs.

Cassidy, Sam and T'Challa, Ayanna and Adwin, Clint and Natasha; those are people he's always considered family, a family he didn't think he would ever have again after his mom, his only family, passed away.

Now, with the addition of Bucky, he feels whole. His family feels whole and he's happy.

From the sound of Cassidy's laughter coming so brightly and loudly from the living room, Steve knows she is too. She hasn't started calling Bucky dad yet, or any other variation of the father title, but Steve suspects it won't be long until it happens. They've talked about it, he and Cassidy, and he knows she sees Bucky as family just as much as he does.

Any day now, she's going to drop that bomb and Steve can't wait for it.

The food on the pan is finished soon enough. Steve lifts the pan off of the stove and turns it off as he sets the pan aside, carelessly tossing the wooden spoon into the sink along with the rest of the dishes he hasn't bothered putting in the dishwasher even though it's only a few inches away.

Whatever. He can do it later.

Or get Bucky to deal with it, that works too.

Steve opens the fridge and sticks his head in, fishing out a head of lettuce and some vegetables that he brings out on the counter for a salad. Not just for himself even though Bucky stopped teasing him about it long ago, but for all of them. He's not the only one he's trying to keep alive and healthy after all.

Bucky always complains whenever Steve makes him eat healthy to which Steve always says, “My seven year old daughter whines less than you, Buck. Don't be a baby.”

“Yeah, don't be a baby,” Cassidy always says with a laugh and Bucky always gives in eventually but never without complaining and never without glaring at them when they high five after succeeding. The fondness in his eyes always makes the glare a lot less real and a lot less intimidating though.

Dinner is just about done, the table still unmade, when Steve hears the sound of the television get turned up significantly in the living room. He blinks and, putting down the bowl of salad, turns a bit toward the noise, training his ear to really listen.

It takes him barely a second to recognize the melody that starts out after a few lines of dialogue. He'd know that melody anywhere, knows the lyrics by heart from years of watching Mulan.

A smile forms on his lips before the song even really begins, the smile only growing wider and fonder when he hears the sound of Bucky's voice joining the voice of Shang which is immediately followed by Cassidy's delighted laughter.

Steve gives it a minute, lets himself listen as Bucky gets more and more enthusiastic about it. But when Cassidy joins in, he can't stay in the kitchen any longer. He's itching to see it for himself so, setting down everything in his hands and giving in, he momentarily pushes all thoughts of dinner out of his head and heads for the living room.

There's already a fond and soft smile on his lips when he makes it there and it only grows as he crosses his arms, leans his shoulder against the door frame to the living room, and takes in the scene before him.

Bucky is standing up, his back turned to the television playing out _I'll Make A Man Out Of You_ with the volume turned up loud. He has his right arm stretched out, hand curled into a fist and a finger pointed ahead of him. A wide smile is on his lips as they move, forming the words of the song effortlessly and obviously practiced.

And Cassidy is standing on the couch, bouncing in place as she sings along with him. She's glowing, her whole face bright with joy and happiness as the two of them sing their hearts out.

Steve has always been convinced that the universe is plotting against him. But every once in a while, the universe throws him a bone. Like when it threw Bucky Barnes into his life and added to the happiness that Cassidy gives him.

Sometimes, the universe isn't so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end, everybody. This fic was such a struggle for me to write, I'll be honest, and I'm kinda glad this is the end. All your nice comments and every single kudo mean the world to me. Thank you so much to everyone who left either (or both) and to everyone who read along! <3
> 
> Rebloggable post on [tumblr](http://halerogers.tumblr.com/post/162674815138).


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